


Anthesis

by KendraLuehr



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abigail Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward First Times, Awkward Sexual Situations, Cunnilingus, Disturbing Themes, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Seduction, Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraLuehr/pseuds/KendraLuehr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being lured out of retirement, Will Graham makes a shocking discovery: Abigail Hobbs is alive. Little does he know, her re-emergence is not as innocent as it seems... (Dark themes and strong sexual content).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> I know some readers prefer to skim and find the smut, so I figured I'd be helpful and leave a directory of sorts. 
> 
> -Sexual/sensual content not involving penetration: chapters 4, 5, & 7  
> -Sexual content involving penetration: chapters 6 & 10

**A/N:** In light of the past episode, a few fan theories have emerged stating that Abigail survived. I, myself, would LOVE for any of these to be true (though I'm not holding my breath), so I decided to take a stab at my favorite theory. The one I like best is this: Lecter ships Abby off to Paris to live with his aunt, Lady Murasaki. After he manages to evade the police, he joins them and they have a happy, cannibalistic lifestyle. I'm adding Will Graham into the mix (and this is two years later/he's retired from the FBI), because he's awesome and needs to be added. The end. ;)

I also included some Lithuanian words here, so I hope that won't be too jarring. It's not that bad though, I don't think. Here's a list and their meanings:

 **mažai žiedų:** little blossom

 **Teta:** aunt

 **All other nicknames:** Variations of darling, sweetheart, dear, etc.

CH 1: Rebirth

Abigail tasted bile. Trembling horribly, she gazed at her captor like a wounded deer just before the final death blow. Hannibal was holding a knife toward her throat, but she couldn’t think – couldn’t _function._ She felt him take her wrist then, her teeth gritting as he twisted her palm upward and forced the blade into her grasp. She knew what he wanted her to do, but was far too paralyzed by fear to reject or accept his command.

When tears puddled around her eyes, Hannibal placed a hand on her cheek and shushed her. There was something oddly calming about his demeanor. She felt soothed… _appeased._ Finally lifting the blade, Abigail released a shuddery breath and asked, “If I do this, will you let me go?”

Hannibal’s smile was serpentine. “No, Abigail – I can never let you go.”

Somehow she seemed to have expected this. With a brittle nod, she placed the knife behind her ear and shivered at the feel of the chilled, sharp metal. She could hear dark laughter then, her breath coming out in short, shallow pants as she saw her father standing by the window. His eyes were glazed and blue, the front of his shirt still riddled with bullets and dried blood.

Abigail gave a dry sob. With her hands shaking, she barely even reacted when the knife nicked her pale flesh. “He’s here,” she whispered. “My dad’s here… He’s come to take me…”

Hannibal’s smile grew colder. “Nonsense, Abigail – you are very much alive.”

 _‘Alive,’_ she thought. _‘Alive, alive, alive.’_

With this mantra burning through her very veins, Abigail gave a sharp cry and jerked the blade upward in an arc of hot, crimson blood. The spray coated the walls and Hannibal’s face like a mottled curtain.

Staggering with the blade in hand, Abigail was vaguely aware that her ear was still dangling from the side of her face. It tapped against her cheek every time she turned her head. Mouth agape, she shuddered and swayed as Hannibal grasped her face. He patted her cheek and she blinked, the gore leaking from her wound leaving her increasingly light-headed.

“Hannibal,” she gasped out. “Hannibal, please…”

She needed to get out of there. She couldn’t breathe – oh God, she couldn’t _breathe!_

Using her words to distract him, Abigail grappled wildly behind her for something – _anything_ – that could assist in her plight. Her fingers met an empty vase and she swung it aloft, bringing it down as hard as she could onto Hannibal’s neck. He staggered, stunned, and she ran for the door. She could hear him calling after her as she stumbled down the steps and headed for the woods.

Hannibal’s voice echoed behind her as she moved, her vision dancing as the trees pitched and shook before her, her gasping breath like knife points in her lungs. She lost one of her shoes and still she ran, feeling the weeds reach out for her.

Abigail realized she was near her neighbors, and that if she reached their front walk, Hannibal would never think to chase her into the house. He couldn’t reveal himself for the murderer he was. No, she would be safe… As the rectangular lit windows of the rancher style home danced into view, she began to sob with relief.

Hannibal stepped out in front of her then, stifling her scream as he lifted her up with a strength caused by stinging rage. His face had changed to a mask of fury, his typically cool eyes ablaze with something new and cruel. How had she never seen this side of him before?

“You disappoint me, Abigail,” he hissed. “I am not fond of betrayal.”

She felt his fingers wrap around her throat and she cried out, his hands seeming to drain the very life from her as she twitched and bucked in his arms. Feeling dizzy, she could only manage a feeble, “Stop… _please_ stop…”

It seemed as if her nerves were on fire, her body heating as her heart sped to a crescendo. She tried to speak again, but could only roll her head back and mouth one word; one name, over and over. Will Graham…he’d saved her once. Surely he’d be there to save her again…?

But deep-down she knew he would not come, for he was far too busy wrestling with his own delusions. She figured he wouldn’t hear of her fate until he read about it in the paper, her sordid tale smeared further in Freddie Lounds’ trashy column.

Her eyes squinted somewhere beyond, to the horizon lined with purplish-orange. It occurred to her then that hers would be a late evening death.

But then, something changed.

Abigail felt her body being roughly careened forward. Her head collided against the trunk of an old oak with a sharp and resounding _crack._ Pinpoints of light danced beneath her lids as she struggled to stand, her world now spinning about her in a sickening blur of color.

Hannibal was stalking toward her, his head shaking as he towered over her trembling form. His eyes were cold again – so _unbearably_ cold – and he tore the remaining strip of her ear flesh in one harsh, sharp jerk. Abigail cried out, then went slack in his arms.

-Two Years Later-

Abigail Hobbs sat in front of a baby grand piano, plinking out a few deliberate notes as she tried to still the frantic, furious pounding of her own heart. Hannibal had deemed it time for her to come out of hiding – to let Will Graham know he was still the rodent in their game of cat and mouse - but she was very much afraid. Despite her devotion to her new father, she knew she could never be exactly the way he desired. In the beginning, she had constantly questioned her loyalty. Will had been there for her quite a bit. He’d even saved her life on more than one occasion, so the thought of harming him hadn’t been a welcome one. Hannibal had eventually made the idea seem a bit more palatable.

In truth, Abigail didn’t know when Hannibal had managed to corrupt her, but she was still capable of telling right from wrong. The only difference was now she no longer cared – sometimes it felt _good_ to be bad. It felt _powerful._ Will had been right when he’d described these feelings to her in the hospital, because she felt it every time she was on the delivering end of a blade. Had Will killed again since they last talked, she wondered? The thought made her slightly giddy.

Abigail could picture his blood coating her hands – or better yet, _her_ blood coating _his_ hands – and the two would drown in their own carnage before departing in the way they deserved. There was no ceremony for the wicked.

And yet…was Will actually wicked? His heart had been pure despite his empathy. After partaking in Hannibal’s customs, she’d revealed to him (thinking it would please him) that when the time came, she wanted to be the one to eat Will’s heart. Hannibal had promptly rebuked her, for being selfish was frowned upon.

But was she truly selfish? At just twenty-one years old, she knew she was more cultured and mature than most women her age. After Hannibal had staged her death and shipped her off to Paris to live with his aunt, Lady Murasaki, he’d ensured that she was treated to all the finest performances and soirees in the world (Cotillion being at the top of the list). Though if a man ever became too forward during lessons, he would soon find himself on the Lecter’s lavish dinner table. It made Abigail smile a little – Hannibal truly _was_ the perfect father.

“Are you ready, Abigail?”

“Almost!” she called over her shoulder. Peering into the mirror on the far wall, she stepped forward and applied a bit of rouge to her lips. There. She finally looked the part of the doe-eyed, innocent victim. If Will Graham still cared for her as much as he did two years ago, she wouldn’t have any trouble getting him to fall for her sob story. Or at least, that’s what she hoped…

Hearing Hannibal’s footsteps from behind, she turned and flashed an adoring smile as he came toward her. Rushing into his arms, she embraced him tightly as he kissed her forehead.

“Are you ready, mažai žiedų?”

Abigail nodded. “Yes, Papa.” She loved it when he spoke to her in his native tongue – it made her feel special and included.

Handing her a traveling suitcase, Hannibal brushed back her hair and said, “I shall leave on the 2:00 flight this afternoon – you will follow suit on the Red Eye. This should give me plenty of time to make the necessary arrangements.”

Abigail’s wide eyes were full of intrigue. “And Will…when do I go after him?”

“Patience, širdelė – these things take time. I can assure you, it will be evident when you must take action. I shall leave behind a clue at the impending crime scene.”

Beaming now, she grasped her surrogate’s hands and nodded. “I promise you, Papa, I’ll get him – I’ll get Will Graham.”

Hannibal’s smile was proud and indulgent. “I know you will – you have been quite the receptive subject.” Indicating the time, he asked, “Shall we retire to the study?”

Abigail nodded. Around noon each day, they would have tea and brandy with Hannibal’s aunt, whom she affectionately called Teta Murasaki. Though in today’s case, she knew Hannibal only wanted to go over the plans one last time. He was a very meticulous and steadfast individual.

Taking his arm, she smiled and allowed him to lead her downstairs.

\--

Jack Crawford was beside himself. After the discovery of a fresh body earlier that morning, DNA samples revealed that Abigail Hobbs had been at the scene of the crime. Aside from a few stray hairs, her skin had been found beneath the victim's nails.

"Maybe it was placed there as a diversion?" Zeller offered.

"Why?" Beverly fired back. "Using the DNA of a dead girl makes no sense… Unless the killer's trying to send a message? Maybe to…"

"Will Graham," Jack deadpanned. His eyes were cold and distant as he spoke these words. Will's relationship with the Bureau hadn't ended well, so the thought of possibly having to contact him wasn't a welcome one. Rubbing at his soul patch, he frowned and asked, "Is it possible that this is Dr. Lecter?"

"Anything's possible," Price dryly said. "He was last sighted in Paris, though his stint there didn't last very long. When the man wants to disappear, he's impossible to find."

"Ok, well why Will? Why now?"

"He was just released from the hospital," Beverly reminded him. "It's possible that Dr. Lecter doesn't want Will to recover…that he feels they still have some unfinished business to address."

Jack's expression was grim. "No matter what Will's feelings are toward us, we need to make contact and warn him of the situation. Agent Katz?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I want you to come with me – out of everyone in the Bureau, you're the only one he was ever willing to talk to."

Though she'd hardly call a few friendly exchanges "talk," Beverly was grateful for the opportunity to help out. She gave a small nod. "Should I still run the fibers analysis test?"

"No, let Price do it – you and I should head out within the hour. It'll take a while to get to Marathon."

Beverly took her gloves off with a _'snap,'_ then threw them into the bin by the door. "Will's not going to like this, you know… Are you absolutely _sure_ he needs to be involved? Can't we just solve this one on our own?"

Jack frowned. "Dr. Lecter might be out there searching for him – if we can get to Will first, we might be able to save his life."

Beverly said nothing. Even though she agreed with what he said, it was no secret that Will wasn't in the soundest frame of mind. It was possible that he'd _welcome_ the thought of death.

Instead, she turned around and said, "I'll be in the rec room getting my things together. When you're finished up, give me a buzz."

"Will do – thanks, Agent Katz."

She ducked out of the room and didn't answer.

\--

When a series of knocks roused Will Graham from his slumber, he groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. He could feel the sun assaulting his vision like knife points, his head throbbing dully due to his alcohol consumption from the night before.

The knocking grew more persistent.

"Alright, _alright,"_ he growled. Irritably pulling himself off the couch, he switched up his boxers and scratched his chest. If it was another damn salesman, he'd have a few choice words in store for his visitor.

Bleary-eyed and sour, Will opened the door and blinked at his guests in stunned silence.

"Hi, Will," Beverly ventured.

The malice he'd felt earlier returned tenfold, his brow creasing as he debated on slamming the door in their faces. He had no desire to talk to the people who'd blamed him for Abigail Hobbs' death.

Jack seemed to sense this and put a foot over the threshold. "Will, we need to talk."

"So start talking."

Beverly watched this exchange with trepidation, her arms folding as her attention switched between the two men. Will looked awful – his eyes were worn and blood-shot, and his face was haggard and far more whiskered than usual. The bagginess of his clothing was also a key indicator of weight loss. When a man with nothing to lose was cornered, there was no telling what he would do.

Jack, however, didn't seem concerned by Will's unabashed hostility. Handing him a case file, he coolly urged, "Give it a look and see what you think."

Will viciously shoved it back. "In case you've forgotten, I'm _retired._ I'm not here to be your golden boy anymore."

Jack was immovable. Still holding out the crumpled case file, his eyes grew somber as he said, "I think you'll want to see this case."

"Why?"

"Trust me, Will, it's important," Beverly finally spoke up.

Will scoffed at that. She hadn't trusted him when he needed her most, so why the hell should _he_ trust _her?_ Nevertheless, his curiosity won out and he swiped the file before flipping it open. As his eyes scanned the pages, his brow suddenly knit in anger. "Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? Do you think this is _funny?"_

Jack held up a supplicating hand. "I know it seems unbelievable, but-"

"You're goddamn right, it's unbelievable – Abigail Hobbs is _dead!"_

Beverly flinched at his tone, detecting the underlying pain that still bled like a festering wound.

Jack's sympathy wasn't as evident. Tapping the case file, he said, "Maybe so, but we ran the tests several times this morning to be sure – the results are all conclusive. Either someone left Abigail's DNA to lure you out of retirement, or Abigail Hobbs _is_ the killer."

"Bullshit!" Will spat.

"You of all people should know nothing is impossible."

Will swallowed sharply, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes grew wide. "Are you saying…?"

"Dr. Lecter might be responsible, yes."

"Then let him come," he hissed. "Let that goddamn bastard come and finish what he started!" With bitter menace, Will indicated the long, curved scar beneath his shirt with a trembling finger.

Beverly moved as though to comfort him, but Will took a fierce step back. "Get out of here," he urged. "Both of you… Just get the hell out!"

"Will…"

"NO! When I said I was done with the Bureau, I meant it – I'm not coming back!"

"Not even if Abigail Hobbs is alive? Not even if we can save her?"

Will faltered, his face screwing into such a pained look that Jack instantly regretted his words. Finally, Will lifted a finger and hissed, "Don't you tell me things like that… Do you hear me? Don't you _dare_ feed me lies just for the sake of your goddamn public image!"

Beverly tried to take his arm, but he shook her off.

"Was I unclear when I told you both to leave?" Will's voice was choked and shaking. "Get out of here…go _now_ before I report you for trespassing!"

Jack gave a crisp nod. "Very well…if you change your mind, you know where to find us."

"Don't worry, I _won't."_

Beverly gave Will a pained look, but she took Jack's arm and ushered him toward the car. She glanced back only once, but by that point Will had already slammed the door.

\--

Abigail sat on her bed in a very seedy hotel, wondering why Hannibal had chosen a place of such filth when he normally opted for luxury.

 _‘In times of need, you can’t be caught,’_ she irritably reminded herself. She needed to stop being such a baby.

Instead of worrying further, Abigail grabbed the filthy remote – while trying not to think of all the germs crawling on the buttons – and flipped on the small color TV. Hannibal had promised that her cue would be on the news, so she kept it on a local station and eagerly waited with unabashed anticipation.

Hours passed – or at least, what _felt_ like hours, and Abigail began to grow increasingly agitated. Had Hannibal failed in his task? The idea seemed unheard of, considering the expertise and great care he always took, but the thought still couldn’t help but cross her mind.

Glancing at her cell phone, she gave a huff when she realized that that, too, was devoid of any information. It occurred to her then that Hannibal might have decided to seek revenge himself, and that notion irritated her more than anything. He rarely included her in his hunts overseas, so she’d be damned if he left her out in the cold when it came to Will Graham. He’d been her friend too, so it only seemed fair that they share in the effort.

Abigail huffed again. Rolling over onto her stomach, she was just about to give up when a ‘BREAKING NEWS’ bulletin flashed across the screen. “Finally!” she exclaimed. Nearly clapping amidst her glee, she shot up onto her haunches and leaned forward, intent on the screen. An anchor woman was giving her best ‘mournful tone’ as she spoke, her head shaking as the tagline ‘Is there a new Shrike?’ flashed across the bottom of the screen.

The Shrike… Of _course_ Hannibal would choose to emulate that crime scene. It was the first case that Hannibal had tampered with, and it was also the first case that had led Will to her. It seemed only fitting. Even so, Abigail couldn’t help but feel a sense of nausea at seeing a crime scene so similar to her father’s. Hannibal probably knew it would upset her, if only just a little. Despite his affections, he was always looking to push her boundaries.

Frowning, Abigail knew the news would not show any pictures due to the graphic nature of the murder, but Hannibal had told her it would be in an alleyway. It was an odd choice – one she didn’t fully understand – but he’d told her it was best to keep everyone (especially Will) guessing. All of the other murders had been in open spaces.

Shrugging it off, Abigail rolled off the bed and prepared to change into her disguise. It was officially her time to shine.

\--

Abigail Hobbs…it was a name that haunted Will on a daily basis, but one he'd never thought would be spoken again. The idea of her actually _being_ alive had filled him with such hope – then with a bone-crushing guilt – and the emotions had been so strong that he'd been sick all morning.

Running a hand across his bile-encrusted lips, he sank down onto the couch and switched on the TV. He hated to admit it, but he wanted to find out about the murder…he wanted to know without a shadow of a doubt that Abigail wasn't responsible.

Images of the victim flashed across the screen – brown hair, blue eyes, and pale skin – followed shortly by the tagline: _"Is the Shrike back?"_

Feeling sick to his stomach, Will listened closely as the reporter explained the details to the best of her knowledge. The girl had been found mounted to a set of antlers – basically the same set-up as the Copy Cat – and above the body had been painted the words, _"See? Do you see?"_

Will dropped the remote in shock. He could envision Garrett Jacob Hobbs, smug even with death at his heels as he rasped, "See? _See?"_ and expired softly, without difficulty.

Vaulting up from his seat, Will rushed back to his bedroom and began tearing through a set of drawers. He still had his badge and gun – he'd hidden them so they couldn't be confiscated – and as he searched with desperate swipes of his hands, he felt his heart lurch up into his throat. He knew he was being stupid…he _knew_ it was a trick devised by Dr. Lecter, but in spite of all this, he was preparing to drive two hours to break into a crime scene for answers.

When his hands finally connected with cold metal, Will withdrew his badge and pistol and tucked them into the waistband of his boxers. Fetching some clean clothes from his closet, he got dressed and adjusted the gun accordingly. He now felt ready to face his fears.

\--

Tightly gripping his steering wheel, Will continued to sit parked a block away from the crime scene. Though it was closed off with tape, he knew from experience that it wouldn't be hard to enter undetected. With the body gone and the evidence gathered, it was unnecessary to have anyone guarding it. Even so, he still felt apprehensive of what he was about to do.

Releasing a shaky breath, Will counted to ten, then got out of his car and started the trek to the site. The soles of his shoes slapped hollowly against the bone-white sidewalk, his heart thudding in his ears as he began to taste bile. Why was he so nervous? He knew he wouldn't find anything…

Removing a mini flashlight from his belt, Will ducked beneath the yellow tape and looked around. Aside from the blood spatters and the _"See? Do you see?"_ message scrawled out across the building wall, there was no remaining trace of the crime.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Leaning forward, he squinted when he shone his light over a dried patch of blood. Trapped inside the gore was a small, green fiber… Perhaps from a sweater?

Will felt his heart throb. When he'd known her, Abigail had worn sweaters nearly every day – he could still see her shy, smiling face as she'd absently fiddle with her sleeves.

Patting his pockets for something he could use to extract the evidence, Will gave a start when the loud, jarring _'clang'_ of a falling trashcan reached his ears. He immediately lifted his flashlight. "Who's there?"

He heard a soft gasp, then a hooded figure turned and began to run.

"Hey… _hey!"_ Will furiously called. Now abandoning the sweater fiber, he clutched the flashlight tightly in his hand and went racing after the runaway. The light from the apparatus created several brisk, jerky movements across the alley walls as he moved, his breath like fire in his lungs as he struggled to keep up.

At long last, the fleeing figure was trapped. It paused, gawping up at the dead end before looking frantically around for a new escape route. There were none to be found.

"Alright, end of the line," Will called. He shone his flashlight on the figure, his free hand grasping his gun as he observed the perp. Though its back was facing him, the runaway wore a grey hooded sweatshirt, black sweat pants, and a rucksack on its back.

Holding his gun out in front of him, Will urged, "Turn around slowly… Go on, put your hands in the air."

The figure reluctantly complied. As it turned around, Will's breath caught when he was greeted by the dulcet, familiar blueness of eyes that had long since haunted him…


	2. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail sets her and Hannibal's plan into motion.

"Abigail?" Will choked. As she slowly removed her hood, his battered, unfeeling heart gave a dull throb of recognition. _"Abby?"_ he tried yet again.

She wasn't real...she _wasn't._ How was it possible?

His hands were now shaking so badly that the dull, warm glow of his flashlight jerked this way and that on Abigail's face.

"Will?" he heard her ask. Her eyes were wide and plaintive, her hand grasping her throat as she took a slight step forward.

Will mirrored her by taking a step back. "You're not real," he whispered. "You're _not_ her..." His voice caught and he choked on the words.

She gave him a funny look. "Will, it _is_ me... It's Abigail Hobbs."

"No..." Despite being released from the hospital, he felt that he couldn't trust his eyes in that moment. Shaking his head, Will slowly lowered his gun. "Your DNA was at the crime scene...did you kill that girl? Are you taking up your father's mantle?"

 _"What?_ Of course not!" Abigail's words were sharp and horrified. "I came here to try and clear my name...Hannibal killed that girl, not me!"

Will jerked back as if he'd been slapped. "Dr. Lecter...?"

Abigail nodded, leaking rehearsed tears as she tried to run into his arms. Will surprised her when he gruffly pushed her back. With his hand now encircling her wrist, tight and to the point of pain, his jaw set as his eyes burned fiercely into hers.

"You're lying to me," he hissed.

Abigail felt her heart leap into her throat, wondering what she'd done to give herself away. Trying to twist out of his grasp, she gave a sharp cry when his grip grew stronger. "Will, you're _hurting_ me!"

He ignored her. "Why didn't you ever come forward? You could've let someone know you were alive!"

Teeth gritting, Abigail gave yet another tug, but found herself thrust back against his chest. "I-I couldn't," she choked out. "Hannibal would've killed me!"

Will frowned, though there was a softening around his eyes as he considered this. "How did you escape, then? Where's Lecter now?"

Abigail felt helpless. If he continued to ask question after question, it was very possible that he'd see right through her ruse. That couldn't happen - Hannibal would never forgive her.

In a panic, she realized that the only viable option was to cry - and cry she did, her face scrunching as she gave several short, miserable little sobs. "Help me," she wailed. "Oh God, Will, please... Hannibal's going to know I ran away, and then...then he'll come after me! Please say you'll hide me, _please!"_

Grasping at his arms with talon-like fingers, Abigail gazed up into Will's bemused gaze and hiccuped for added effect.

It didn't work.

Suddenly angry, Will gripped her arms and slammed her against the brick siding of the alley. She gave a cry as her head connected with the cold surface.

"Lecter put you up to this, didn't he?" Will growled. _"Didn't_ he?!"

"N-no, I..."

"You're a fucking _liar!"_

He looked feral in that moment - _murderous_ \- and Abigail couldn't deny the coil of heat she felt in her lower belly. "Wait," she rasped, but Will responded by pressing an arm against her windpipe.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he hissed. _"Huh?_ Because I saw your ear in my sink, Abigail - Lecter staged your death, and now he's using you as bait!"

"NO!" Choking on a sob, she clawed at his arm and weakly confessed, "Ok, yes, he's here looking for you, and _yes,_ he wanted to use me as bait, but I couldn't do it, Will! I couldn't hurt you..."

 _'There,'_ she thought. It was just the opening she'd been waiting for, and judging by the pained look in Will's eyes, she'd gotten through to him with her half-truths.

When his hold relaxed on her throat, she coughed and brought a hand to her neck. Looking up at him, she earnestly explained, "After Hannibal checked us into a hotel this morning, I managed to escape. I knew you'd be here, so that's why I came... Please, Will, you have to believe me - I'm so scared..."

Gazing back at the girl in his grasp, Will's heart tugged when all of his long-suppressed, overprotective feelings for her came rushing back. How could he have ever thought of denying her? This was Abigail Hobbs... It was _his_ Abigail, and whether or not he wanted to admit it, he cared very deeply about her well-being. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to her.

"I...I think I can help you," he finally said. "I have a place nearby that nobody visits - not even Lounds knows about its location. You'd be safe there from Lecter, and possibly the FBI."

"Possibly?"

"Jack Crawford stopped by this morning."

"Oh..." Abigail felt a rush of panic, but tried not to let this deter her from what she must do. With a brisk little nod, she agreed, "Yes, I...I think I'd like that. Thank you, Will." Here she surprised him by taking his hands, her lips curving up into a sweet smile that made his heart bleed. There had been a time when Abigail's happiness warmed him, but now he only saw his failures blazing back at him like a fiery beacon.

With a deep breath, Will removed himself from Abigail's touch and placed a hand on her shoulder. "C'mon," he urged, "let's get you out of here."

Seeing the old Will gradually resurfacing, Abigail beamed and linked her arm through his. She felt him flinch against her, his body heating with embarrassment at her liberty. There were times when he wouldn't have minded, but now that Abigail was a little older, her affectionate gestures were making him uncomfortable. As they moved along, he could feel her soft, small breasts pressing into his elbow.

Promptly removing himself from her grasp, Will's eyes remained dark as he said, "You're not a kid anymore, Abby - you don't need to hang onto people like that."

Her lips puckered in confusion. As she watched him open his car door, she softly observed, "You've changed, Will."

He paused a moment, his brow sullen and creased. "So have you," he whispered. Sliding into his seat, he failed to notice how the color had drained from Abigail's face.

\--

Will's beach house was beautiful. As they eased up the winding path, Abigail pressed closely to her window and observed the medium-sized, high-rise home stationed a top a hill. Down below, the waves lapped calmly across a beach of tawny sand.

"Wow," she finally complimented. "How did you afford all this?"

Will's expression was grim. "When you want to escape certain things, you find a way."

Abigail sent him a sidelong glance, knowing better than to ask him to elaborate. Instead, she tried a more benign route. "How are your dogs?"

She saw a softening around Will's mouth, his expression looking less pinched as he said, "They're good - I've actually got ten now."

"Really? I'll bet cleaning up all that loose hair is killer!"

Will suddenly paled. "I, uh...I haven't really prepped the house for company. It's going to be . . . a tad messy in there."

"Oh, that's alright. I could always clean as payment for your help."

Will appeared affronted. "You don't owe me anything... It's enough to see you alive again." When her warm eyes met with his, he ducked his head so he didn't have to meet her gaze.

Abigail found it interesting how he could no longer look her in the eye. Back when they'd been friendly, he'd never had any issues with returning her gaze before. Hell, he hadn't had any qualms with touching her, either. What had changed?

Will cleared his throat then, and she realized he was waiting for her to get out of the car. Grabbing her rucksack, she slid out into the driveway and could already hear the dogs carrying on behind the front door.

"Guess they missed you," she teased.

Will chose not to say anything.

Following him up the path to the front porch, Abigail scaled the three steps as he fiddled with his keys. After a few attempts the lock freed, then she gave a delighted laugh as they were greeted by a brigade of fur and warm tongues. When she spared each clamoring dog a pat on the head, she missed the warm smile Will gave her before crossing the threshold.

Abigail followed soon after. As Will turned on the lights, she gasped at the sight of beer bottles strewn across the room.

Will noticed her expression and winced. "I, uh...sorry."

"It's alright," Abigail lied. It was evident to her that he had suffered a rough couple of years.

Shuffling through the filth, Will removed his jacket and asked, "Can I get you anything to drink? Water, maybe? Hot chocolate?"

"Beer's fine," Abigail said. Noting the startled look in his eyes, her expression became smug. "I _am_ twenty-one now, you know. And don't tell me you're out, because you obviously have a steady supply."

Will's cheeks flushed in shame. He mumbled something incoherent, then padded toward the kitchen to get the requested beverage.

The moment he returned, Abigail frowned when she realized he had two beers in hand. Apparently he thought he'd need some liquid courage.

"That's bad for the liver, you know."

Will rolled his eyes and handed her a bottle. "No shit, Sherlock - I promise I know the consequences."

"Ok, so then you're hell-bent on self-extermination?"

He ignored her. Grunting as he had a seat on his large (and filthy) couch, he motioned toward the chair across from him and indicated she have a seat.

Abigail complied, but only because she didn't want to upset him any further. The thought of what could possibly be living on the chair gave her the willies.

"So, uh...you doing ok?"

"Yes," she assured him, "I'm doing just fine."

Will gave a stiff little nod. "Oh...well that's good."

"Yeah."

They were quiet for a long time. All that could be heard was the soft _tick tick tick_ of the clock on the far wall.

Holding her bottle more tightly, Abigail frowned and blurted, "I know you wanted to move, but . . . how come? What was so bad about Virginia?"

Will's gaze grew dark. "I don't know...too many memories, I guess. Everything there reminded me of..."

_You._

"...bad FBI experiences."

"Oh." She gazed up into his blue eyes - haunted, sad, and rimmed with the cold mania he'd gained from experience. Crime never left a man unmarked. Shifting forward in her seat, she lifted her head and observed, "You seem like you miss your old life, if only just a little. Am I right?"

 _"No."_ The word came out so sharply and fast that Abigail flinched.

Will noticed this and sighed. "Sorry, I just...it's not something I ever really miss or think about. Our eyes are on the front of our head for a reason, so why look back?"

"Because you're human." Will's eyes met with Abigail's then, and this time it was she who shrank beneath his gaze.

"You've grown intuitive in your old age."

She laughed - a nervous, husky sound - and glanced at the floor. "I'm sorry for bringing up your past," she apologized. "I know it must be painful for you... I guess I just wanted to try and understand."

Will's smile was grim. "What's there to understand? Lecter played us both like a violin, and now we've been given the chance to start over. I won't let him come near you ever again... I hope you know that."

Abigail managed to return his gaze, stunned at the amount of devotion he was exhibiting. She'd never given him an ounce of affection or gratitude, so why did he seem to think he owed her anything?

Annoyed, Abigail said, "You don't have to protect me forever. I may be in trouble, but I don't need a white knight."

Will glanced at the far wall, his jaw tensing as he tried not to emote what he was truly feeling. "I know," he rasped. "And I...I also know I'm not your father, so-"

"No, you're not," Abigail coldly agreed. She thought of Hannibal - her _true_ father - and felt a twinge of disdain for the man in front of her. As is, Will was a disgrace. Hannibal would be disappointed to find such a beautiful mind ravaged by booze and depression. She'd be sure to get him to stop drinking before long, if only to please her surrogate. But in order to do so, she knew she needed to be more tactful.

Taking her drink, Abigail announced that she was ready for bed. As she rose and promptly headed off to find a guest room, she failed to notice the tragic, wistful look in Will's eyes as he gazed down into his beer.

\--

Abigail was frustrated. Why hadn't Hannibal tried to contact her yet?

Flipping open her cell phone, she scrolled through her messages with impatience, hoping that she'd somehow missed something from her surrogate. When she once again found her inbox empty, she texted Hannibal the words _"In Will's home"_ and waited.

And _waited._

Biting her lip, Abigail glanced over her shoulder to make sure Will wasn't nearby, then gave a soft growl of frustration. How was she supposed to do this without any guidance? Hannibal often liked to cut her loose as a lesson, but this wasn't an instance where she wanted to be blind. Instruction was key.

Just when Abigail was ready to give up and turn in for bed, a message popped up on her screen. Eager and excited, she read the words _"Be subtle"_ and frowned. That's it? _That_ was her instruction? Wasn't he at least going to congratulate her on a job well done?

Pouting and sullen, Abigail decided that she was done playing by Hannibal's rules.

 _'I'll show him,'_ she thought. _'I'll catch Will all by myself, and_ without _his stupid methods. Then he'll_ have _to realize we're equals!'_

With this idea replaying in her mind, she gave a coy little smile and began to get ready for bed.

\--

The low, idle hum of the TV momentarily brought Will into consciousness, but as he rolled over on the couch, he gave a start when he realized he was no longer alone. "A-Abigail?" he croaked.

"I need to go shopping," she said. Appearing self-conscious, she skimmed her toe across the floor and explained, "When I was packing this morning, I forgot my pajama bottoms... I guess I was too nervous to think straight."

Will blinked. As he slowly sat up, he took in Abigail's form-fitting T-shirt and realized, with an increasing amount of embarrassment, that below the hem she was only wearing a pair of skimpy, girlishly pink panties. "Uhh...did you want a pair of my pajama bottoms?"

"Thanks, but they probably wouldn't fit." Smiling, she strode toward him and stopped in front of the coffee table. At this distance, he could read the words _Try Your Luck_ in bold, flirty lettering across her crotch.

Blushing furiously, Will snapped his gaze to the far wall and refused to look her in the eye. "Are you...? I mean...is there anything else you wanted?"

Abigail's smile was chipper as she shook her head. "No - I just wanted to let you know about my situation. Think we can go shopping tomorrow?"

"Um...sure."

"Great!" Bounding over to him with a bright smile, she threw her arms around his neck and embraced him tightly. Flustered, Will held his hands out awkwardly to the side, unsure of where to place them as she nuzzled his cheek. With the heat creeping up his neck, his toes curled as her warm, satin lips brushed against the scruff of his jaw. "Goodnight, Will - thanks for everything," she whispered. The warmth of her breath caused a shiver to run down his spine.

Pulling away with a warm smile, she glanced down at her feet and laughed when Winston nosed her thigh. "C'mon, Winston," she urged. "Let's go to bed."

The dog happily pranced after her and Will winced, releasing a breath as he listened to them head back to Abigail's room. When the door closed, he covered his face with his hands and groaned. This had to stop. It _had_ to. In the morning, he would be sure to lay down some ground rules about how to behave in his house. It wasn't that Abigail was intentionally trying to provoke him - _right?_ \- but she needed to know she was making him uncomfortable.

Absently scratching his arm, Will tried to ignore the pounding of his heart and his jittery limbs. He tried to _ignore_ the fact he was sporting the beginnings of an erection. Abigail Hobbs was his _ward,_ for God's sake, and he wouldn't subject himself - he wouldn't subject _her_ \- to any awkwardness that might follow.

Trembling, he flicked off the TV and laid back down, lacing his hands over his chest as he attempted to fall back to sleep. It would prove to be a long, and miserable night.


	3. Curiosity Killed the Katz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly makes a dangerous discovery.

Will awoke to the sound of banging cabinet doors. Blearily opening his eyes, he groaned and rolled up into a sitting position, his mind only half functioning as he staggered to his feet.

"Abigail?" Cringing at the dry, croaky timbre of his voice, he scratched the back of his head and shuffled into the kitchen. "Abigail, what are you doing?"

"There's nothing to eat in this house!" she complained. "You can't really expect me to live on Nutella and bread, can you?"

Will gave a helpless shrug. "I'm a bachelor... I didn't know I'd be housing my undead ward."

Rolling her eyes, Abigail found the umpteenth can of Alpo and observed, "Well, you've certainly got enough food for the dogs!"

"There are more of them than me." His face was defensive and sour, though the softness of his eyes gave away his true affection for the girl. Moving to stand behind her, he was relieved to find that she was fully dressed. Now that it was morning light, he no longer had the courage - nor the resolve - to address her discrepancies from the night before.

"So how about that shopping?"

"Huh?" Embarrassed over his internal musings, Will cleared his throat and had a seat at the kitchen table. "You mean...shopping for clothes?"

With a wry smile, Abigail glanced over her shoulder and asked, "What else? Though we're definitely adding grocery shopping to that list. You have no taste!"

"Oh, and I suppose you do?"

Will's snappish tone was not lost on Abigail, and deep-down she knew it was because Hannibal had clearly rubbed off on her. If only he knew how much...

Trying her best not to smile, Abigail abandoned the cabinets and headed to the fridge. "Do you have any eggs and milk? I could make us some pancakes."

Will looked up at her, surprised since he hadn't expected her to cook for him. "I...you don't have to do that. I'll just have some cereal from the pantry."

"Ugh, _boring!_ I can see I've got my work cut out for me here." Finding a carton of eggs and milk, she brought them to the counter before fishing around for the other ingredients. "Do you like chocolate chips in yours?"

Will smiled, though the expression seemed out of place on his sad features. "Who doesn't?"

"Diabetics."

"Very funny."

"Aren't I, though?" Smirking back at her guardian, Abigail set to work on the batter, her heart pounding with excitement since she could already sense a rapport building between them. She'd have him at Hannibal's mercy in no time.

"Do you need any help?"

Startled out of her reverie, Abigail glanced at him and shook her head. "No thanks - if I'm being honest, you'd probably just get in the way. Why don't you go ahead and get dressed?"

Glancing down at his bed clothes, Will cleared his throat and balked. He was so used to being alone that he hadn't even realized his state of dress - or in this case, lack there of. When Abigail turned to test the griddle, he hitched up his boxers and went padding toward his bedroom.

"What kind of stores are at the mall?"

Though Abigail was a considerable distance away, Will could still hear her perfectly well. With his hand lingering on his dresser drawer, he paused before calling back, "I dunno...I was actually hoping that maybe you could go by yourself? I'd just slow you down."

Picking out a green plaid shirt and khaki pants, Will quickly changed into his clothes and realized, with an increasing amount of humility, that this was the first time in a long while he'd bothered looking presentable. After running his fingers through his messy hair, he returned to the kitchen and chuckled at the sight that greeted him. "What's this?"

"Fish-shaped pancakes. I remembered how you like to fish," Abigail said. Scooping a couple onto a plate, she pushed it toward him and smiled. "You've been all mopey, so I figured these might cheer you up, if only for a little while."

Will's smirk was lopsided, but his eyes did seem a little warmer. "They look great - thank you." Picking up the syrup, he watched Abigail have a seat before asking, "About my suggestion...would that be alright? Would you like to go to the mall by yourself? I can give you some money, if that's what you're worried about."

Abigail's smile was sly. "You obviously don't know anything about women, Will, because no man in their right mind would _ever_ give a woman his money." She enjoyed the way he shrank beneath her gaze then, his expression shy as he cut his pancakes into more manageable bites.

"I...I just thought..."

"No, you're right," Abigail assured him. "You'd definitely slow me down. Girls only invite guys along to help pick out lingerie." Pleased when she saw him blush, she lifted her fork and poked at her pancakes. "When I go to the grocery store, I plan on getting lots of ingredients. Are you allergic to anything?"

"Uhh, no..."

"Great! I'm sure you'll be happy with what I come up with."

Will's smile was brittle as he teased, "What, fish-shaped steaks?"

"Don't be a jerk. Besides, it'll be a surprise."

The two ate in amiable silence for the remainder of their meal, but once Abigail was through, she cleaned her plate and came back to Will with an eager spring to her step. "I need your car keys now."

He tossed her the desired object, then handed her his wallet without any provocation. It was clear to her that he rarely spent his money.

She bent over and kissed his cheek, his whiskers feeling like sandpaper against her lips. Giving his shoulder a squeeze, she bounded past him and headed for the door.

Once she was safely out on the porch, Will trembled and rose from his seat. Though later on he would deny it, he felt her kiss linger for quite a while after their encounter - burning him... _taunting_ him.

\--

After a few hours, Will had not only made five new fishing lures, but he'd also fixed a boat engine and repaired his leaky bathroom faucet.

Relatively pleased with himself, he ambled out into the living room just as a knock came at the front door.

"Abigail's home," he told his dogs, feeling a twinge of shame at how much he'd missed her presence. As he opened the door to greet her, however, his smile was instantly wiped from his face. "Beverly..."

"Hey, Will." She appeared beside herself with guilt, her hands shoving into her pockets as she kicked at the floorboards. "Jack went back to Virginia, but I decided to stay a while in case...in case you changed your mind."

Will's expression was cold. "Yeah? Well that was awfully presumptuous of you."

"I know... And I also know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I wanted to say I'm here for you. No matter what happens, I still consider you a friend."

Will's brow creased, his arm moving up to block her from entry. "You didn't believe me," he whispered. "When I told you I didn't kill Abigail, I could see it in your eyes..."

Beverly grimaced, her lips rolling inward as she nodded. "You're right...I didn't. Despite the fact I knew you were a good person, the factual side of my brain wouldn't let me believe your innocence. I just...I relied too much on the evidence instead of my heart."

Stepping forward, she surprised him by touching his shoulder, her hand drifting down his arm and grasping his fingers. "Can we start over? I just...I really miss you."

Will swallowed. Feeling her hold his hand was like clutching a lifeline. With his lips lifting in a bittersweet smile, he stepped back and allowed her to pass.

Beverly mirrored his smile. Crossing the threshold, her expression only faded when she took in the filth surrounding them. "Redecorating?" Her joke ended up sounding more judgmental than she'd intended, and Will winced.

"I just...I don't have much time to clean anymore. I've been kept busy with my customers."

"Ah, right...the whole mechanic thing," Beverly allowed. Though she didn't believe him, she decided to let it slide. She hadn't come to scold him like an abrasive parent. "You got a place where we can talk?"

"Yeah...come into the kitchen." Leading Beverly through the hall, he glanced back at her and asked, "Where are you staying?"

"Just a run-of-the-mill Marriott." With a wide grin, she teased, "I never thought I'd see the day when you indulged in small talk. I thought you hated that stuff."

"So I'm not allowed to be curious? I wanted to make sure you're not close enough to stalk me." Despite this being a joke, he also knew he was asking because of Abigail. He didn't want Beverly to find out their secret and endanger her life.

Having a seat at the kitchen table, Beverly waited for Will before she got serious. "So how've you been? I feel like we've got a lot of catching up to do. Tons can happen in two years, you know."

Will shrugged. "Nothing, really... I don't venture out much beyond my customers, so it's not like I have many 'social stories' to share. My life's kind of boring."

"I would've thought you'd be happier about that. Back at the Bureau, you complained about your life being too eventful."

"It kept me distracted," Will mumbled. "I still...I mean...sometimes I still don't feel 'all there' in the head. It worries me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid I'll . . . hurt someone."

"Will, you know that was all just a mind game, right? You're not actually going to hurt anyone."

Will's eyes were pained. "How do you know that? How can you promise I won't snap? Everyone's capable of murder, Beverly...even us."

"I can promise because I know you." Touching his hand, her eyes were firm as she said, "I may've been blind to it before, but I can see now that you're not capable of that sort of thing. You'd never hurt anyone."

"Garrett Jacob Hobbs..."

"Was a fast and smart decision," she assured him. "Any other agent would've done the same."

"But it felt good," Will weakly insisted. "I felt powerful with my gun...I felt in control. I never get to feel that way anymore, so what if I start craving the stability again?"

Beverly frowned. "I think you're looking too deeply into this. Killing Hobbs felt good because you saved the day - it feels _good_ to stop evil in its tracks. And as for stability? That's bullshit, because you'd get unstable just mentioning the guy's name. I think you're starting to believe Lecter's own diagnoses - which were, by the way, designed to fuck with your mind."

"Mission accomplished," Will bitterly spat. "I just...I wish I knew what to do."

"About what?"

He paused, for he realized he was subconsciously bringing up his plight with Abigail. He didn't know how to treat her when she was nineteen, and he sure as hell didn't know what to do with her now that she was a grown woman. The fairer sex had always bewildered him.

"I just...everything," he finally said.

"Well 'everything' can certainly be daunting," Beverly agreed. "Anything specific you wanna talk about?"

Just then, the hollow _'thwack'_ of a car door reached their ears, and the dogs began barking and dancing excitedly around the front entrance.

"Expecting a customer?"

Will paled. "I...uh...wait here, ok? I'll go see who that is."

Abigail, meanwhile, was entirely pleased with herself. She'd bought a bunch of new clothes - feminine and sexy, but not so much that Hannibal would disapprove - and all the desired ingredients she'd need for the following week. She figured it would take about that long for Will to fully trust her.

In the parking lot at the mall, she'd changed into one of her new outfits: a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, and a curve-friendly, black silk top that plunged well beneath her cleavage. She'd always hidden her body with sweaters, so she was smugly confident that the change would embarrass Will. In her mind, embarrassment could also be taken as a sign of attraction.

With an armload of bags, Abigail scaled the steps before nudging the doorbell (in a series of acrobatics) with her foot. Will surprised her by jerking the door open only a moment after.

"Hey, Will!" she chirped. "Be a gentleman and help me out?"

"Beverly's here," he hissed. "You can't come in unless you want to get caught."

Eyes wide, Abigail looked between her harrowed guardian and the car. "Well...what should I do? I mean, does she already know I'm here? Did you tell her anything?"

"She assumed you were a customer, so if you could just _go..."_

_Creeeak._

Will swallowed, feeling Beverly's presence so strongly that it was as if she'd burned a hole in his back.

"You need to fix these floorboards," she coolly said. After a moment's pause, she sidled up to them and asked, "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

With the way Beverly's sharp, bird-like eyes were appraising her, Abigail already knew she'd figured everything out.

Will, however, wasn't as willing to face the inevitable. "This is...uh...a customer from..."

"Cut the crap, Will. I know it's Abigail Hobbs."

Will appeared as if he'd been punched in the gut. "Beverly, please, I know this looks bad, but-"

"You're damn right, it 'looks bad!' You're harboring a _murderer!"_

"Can we talk about this inside? My arms are starting to go numb." Irritably indicating the bags in her grasp, Abigail arched a brow and waited. Will immediately took her bags and she smiled, wondering what Beverly thought of how he bent to her every whim and fancy. She knew that she, herself certainly enjoyed it. Will's desperation to please her would come in handy in the future.

Beverly sent Abigail a distrusting little glare, then cut past her to help with the groceries. She wouldn't let Will be degraded by some tiny slip of a girl.

Before long, all of the bags were out of the car, and the three of them were gathered tensely around the kitchen table.

Abigail refused to look anyone in the eye as the silence swelled. After a few more minutes, she finally snapped, "Can someone please just say something? I know you both want to lecture me."

"We don't want to lecture you," Will assured her, to which Beverly frowned. "It's just...we don't know what to say just yet."

"Oh, _I_ know what to say," the agent snapped. "You're letting this kid walk all over you, and for what? Just because of a little guilt?"

Will bristled. "You don't understand, Beverly...she's in danger if we turn her in. Lecter's had her for the past couple years, but she finally managed to escape yesterday evening. He's looking for us both right as we speak."

Beverly's laugh was incredulous. "Are you kidding me right now? Lecter staged this girl's death, then more than likely groomed her in his image for a couple years, and yet for some twisted reason you actually _believe_ her?"

"He would've killed me!" Abigail hissed. "What would _you_ have done? I never bothered coming forward because...because he said Will was already dead!"

Will blanched at this bit of news, but Beverly groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Great melodrama, kid, but how do you explain the convenience of this little set-up? Lecter comes to town, and suddenly _you're_ on Will's front doorstep?"

"I found her at the crime scene," Will explained. "She said she was there to clear her name."

"Yeah? Well then why hasn't she done it yet? I don't see either of your asses at the station right now."

"I already told you, Abigail will be in _danger_ if I turn her in!"

"Will, don't you get it? She's _playing_ you!"

Abigail gave a shrill scream, her hands clapping over her ears as she heaved several little short, shuddery sobs. "I don't want to hurt Will," she moaned. "I don't...I _don't!_ Hannibal tried to use me as bait, but I came here to warn him... _tell_ her, Will!"

Bewildered by the strong emotion coming from his ward, he awkwardly patted her hand and sent Beverly a helpless glance. "I...it's true. Look, I didn't believe her at first either, but she broke down and told me everything. Lecter's after us both, so I figured we'd lay low for a while."

"In your _house?"_ Beverly was incredulous. "Will, you'll be sitting ducks here! You should be in protective custody!"

"Maybe so, but that takes us back to the issue of Abigail getting arrested. It wouldn't work."

"Ok, so then what do you want me to do? This goes against everything I stand for, you know."

Will started guiltily. With his eyes moving down toward the table, he nodded once and said, "I know, I just...I'm not wrong about this. My intuition rarely is."

Beverly eyed him sharply. "You're not wrong about this, or you _can't_ be wrong? This isn't the first time the wool's been pulled over your eyes."

Abigail had heard just about enough. "Well since you're both going to continue talking like I'm not even here, can I pleased be excused?"

Will winced. "Abby..."

"No, it's alright. I'll just go to my room until this whole thing is resolved." Drawing herself up from the table, she spared Beverly a chilling glare before stalking out of the kitchen. No one noticed her discreetly withdraw her cell phone.

"I'm sorry," Beverly apologized. "I know you want someone to tell you you're making the right decision, but I just...I don't know if I can. I want to make up for how I mistreated you in the past, but this is a big step. I'm afraid you might be blinded by guilt."

Will frowned, not looking her in the eye as he gazed down into his lap. "You don't know Abigail the way I do."

"You're right...I don't. But I'm also able to look at this objectively, and you've got to admit that things look pretty suspicious. I don't want you getting hurt again."

Will released a breath. "Can you just...can you please keep this to yourself until I figure things out? I don't want to turn in an innocent girl."

Beverly nodded, her hand coming over his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Of course - I can at least do that."

Will gave a lopsided smile, his eyes flooding with relief. "Thanks, Beverly."

"No problem, Champ, but you'll be owing me one hell of a dinner as payment."

He laughed. "That I can do."

\--

A few hours later, Beverly was back in her hotel room and lounging in front of a TV. Despite Will's attachment to Abigail, she felt very accomplished for the day; he'd at the very least been willing to listen to reason.

Disinterestedly watching the dronings of a sitcom, she gave a small start when a knock came at her door.

"Who is it?"

Silence.

Annoyed, Beverly rose from her perch and approached the door, her arms swinging with purpose as she moved. When she reached the oak slab, she peered out through the peephole and frowned when she realized no one was there.

"Great," she muttered. "A prankster."

Rolling her eyes, she returned to the bed and tried to get comfortable. After about five minutes, the knocking resumed again, only it was much stronger this time.

"Are you freaking _kidding_ me?" Miffed, Beverly leapt up and stalked toward the door. She ripped it open and burst out into the hallway, preparing to give whoever it was a piece of her mind.

As she turned, the last thing she saw before blacking out was a surgeon's knife and expensive, Italian leather shoes.


	4. Nine Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Abigail begin to connect (mild sexual content warning).

Abigail was awoken by a sharp, frantic cry. Launching up without fully waking, she staggered out of bed and found herself rushing to Will's room. Something about the way he'd called out screamed of fear.

Still a bit disoriented, Abigail opened his door and blinked at the sight of Will lying there, his body thrashing as his sweaty features screwed into a mask of panic.

"Will?" she whispered, now tentatively stepping forward, "Will, are you awake?"

He gave a soft moan in response, his legs curling up toward his chest as he shuddered.

Abigail frowned. What was wrong with him? What was he dreaming about? She knew that she, too, was no stranger to nightmares, but she still felt awkward and uncertain as she watched him writhe and gasp.

It didn't take long for her to make a decision. Gingerly approaching him, Abigail lifted the sheets and climbed into the lumpy bed beside him. Sliding forward, she wrapped her arms around Will's waist and spooned him from behind, her chin resting in the crook of his neck as she stroked his chest and stomach. With each breath he took, she could feel him shiver like a leaf against her lithe form.

Finally, Will gave a soft whimper, then stilled his manic movements. Abigail brushed her lips against his ear and smiled. She enjoyed how his strong, sturdy frame practically melted in her embrace. Was he even aware that she was there beside him?

Lifting her knee, Abigail wedged it in between his legs so that they became more entangled. A soft groan suddenly caught in his throat and he flinched, his hips writhing a bit as he rubbed against her. She gasped. Even though Abigail was certain Will was asleep, his body was responding to her in ways she'd never thought possible. He'd been so cold and unreceptive when they'd first reunited...was this how he truly felt?

Sliding her hand down along his torso, Abigail palmed his hardness and felt him arch into her hand. It made her feel good to hear his soft moans...it made her feel _powerful._ Abigail had never actually made love to a man before, so she was curious to experience what so many girls her age already had. She'd try her best not to wake him.

Gripping Will more tightly, Abigail kissed his shoulder and imagined that his lips were now on hers, his warm tongue plundering her mouth with a feverish intensity.

Slipping a hand in between them, Abigail shivered and began to touch herself. This wasn't the first time she'd gotten off while thinking of Will Graham. After he'd rescued her that fateful day, she'd recalled his strong hands and bright, panicked blue eyes and had found herself insatiably driven to orgasm.

With a sharp buck of her hips, Abigail sighed and eased another finger inside herself. She stifled her silent screams against Will's shoulder, who she now stroked more vigorously through his boxer briefs. With each breath she'd roll her palm against him, squeezing and grasping until his choked moans filled her ears. It thrilled her to know she was pleasing a man.

After a moment he was still, and she withdrew her hand once she felt his wet excitement seep through his boxers. Had she actually made him come?

Both embarrassed and proud of her prowess, she rose and glanced down at his sleeping face. For once he looked peaceful... _happy._ It warmed her more than she liked to admit to see him that way.

With a quick kiss on his temple, Abigail pulled the covers up beneath his chin and left the room.

\--

"Dammit..."

"What?" Zeller looked up from the current autopsy, his scalpel poised as he quirked a brow. "You get a hold of Katz yet?"

Jack was grim. "No, and that's the problem... I've been calling her phone all morning."

"That's not like her," Zeller said. "Maybe you should leave a message with the Marriott's front desk?"

"Way ahead of you. They said they're sending someone up to check on her."

Price, always the calm and pragmatic one, looked a little pale as he asked, "How soon til we know?"

Jack's gaze was distant as he said, "Not soon enough."

\--

For once Will was in a good mood. As he and Abigail trekked down toward the ocean, he found that he couldn't stop smiling. And how _could_ he? She was actually listening to his stories, laughing at his terrible jokes, and indulging him by joining in on his favorite hobby. In that moment, he couldn't be happier - it was almost enough to make him forget about what had brought them together again. _Almost._

"Could you teach me the proper stance?"

"Huh?"

"You know... _fishing?"_ With a bright smile, Abigail tapped her pole against the sand and said, "I never really learned... I'd kind of just cast however I felt like. My dad didn't bother teaching me the right technique."

Will blinked. "Oh...well sure. C'mere." Abandoning the small boat they were going to use, he led Abigail to the shoreline and motioned her forward. "Come stand beside me."

Doing as she was told, Abigail joined him and waited. She pretended to be clueless, her expression coy and earnest as she asked Will to show her how to cast the line. Seeing how he loved the sport, Will was more than happy to oblige.

Abigail listened as he explained how to hold the pole, his arms coming around her waist to guide her hands into the right position. She nodded, innocently arching her back when Will came in closer. The moment her ass brushed against his front, she heard him inhale sharply and tighten his grip, his breath coming out white-hot against the nape of her neck as he trembled. Not long after that, she felt the telltale prodding of arousal at her lower back.

Pleased that he'd responded in the same way he had earlier that morning, Abigail brazenly moved to cup him through his pants. Will, however, had already stepped away from her and was shaking his head.

"I...um... Maybe we should go back to the house for a while. We didn't really eat breakfast today, and it's not smart to hang out in a boat without food."

Abigail huffed. She couldn't understand why he didn't want her when his body so _clearly_ did. "Why? I'm not really all that hungry."

"Because...um..." His cheeks grew hot and he ducked his head. "Let's just head back, alright? We can fish some other time." Not even waiting for Abigail's more than likely derisive reply, Will grabbed his fishing pole and headed toward the house. It was only when he felt a soft, tentative touch on his arm that he looked down. Abigail was gazing up at him with her wide, imploring eyes, an uncertain smile painting her lips as she tried to keep up with his pace. He immediately slowed down.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I just... I don't know what came over me." But even as he said these words, Will was overcome by an immense bout of shame. There was no denying that she'd aroused him - that he was _still_ aroused - nor the fact that he enjoyed her company perhaps a little too much. It was nice to feel like he had a purpose again.

Absently placing a hand against the small of Abigail's back, Will glanced down at her and watched how the sun warmed her porcelain skin. She had the face of an angel. Could Beverly truly be right about someone who brought him such warmth, happiness, and calm? This was the best he'd felt in years... He hadn't even had a beer in over twenty-four hours.

As if reading his mind, Abigail wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. Feeling his cheeks burn, he returned the embrace - albeit awkwardly - by slinging an arm across her shoulders.

No, he decided. Beverly was wrong about Abigail - she would never, _ever_ hurt him, and he in turn would never, ever hurt her.

Tucking Abigail's head beneath his chin, Will gently jostled her against his side and steered her toward the house. The knowledge of her innocence made his mood considerably lighter.

\--

By early evening, Will finished up a new set of lures for Abigail. He smiled down at his handiwork, imagining what her face would look like when he gave them to her. Would she like them? Would she kiss him as thanks?

Embarrassed over this last thought - and wondering why it had even entered his mind in the first place - Will tucked the lures away just as a knock came at the front door. After assuring himself that Abigail was in her room, he abandoned his work bench and peered out the window.

It was Jack Crawford.

Frowning with a hint of distaste, Will found himself debating on whether or not he would even greet him. Or rather, he _had_ been until he noticed the harrowed look in Jack's eyes. Will knew Jack well. The man wasn't all that emotional, but whenever he was troubled or upset, the weight of the world always rested behind his gaze.

Fearful, Will took two strides toward the door - but not without tripping over a few dogs - and opened it in one fell swoop. "Jack...what's wrong?"

"Will," he returned, a bit surprised to see him standing there. He'd honestly thought he wouldn't be welcome. Taking off his hat, Jack gestured behind him and asked, "May I come in? It's urgent police business."

Will felt his stomach roil. Ever since he'd opened the door, Jack had barely been able to look him in the eye. Whatever happened must've really done a number on him.

Stepping back as a hint of admission, Will watched on as Jack somberly crossed the threshold.

"Will, it's Beverly..."

"No..."

"She's been in an accident."

_"No."_

"We don't have any suspects yet, but-"

"NO!" Eyes wild and frantic, Will staggered back as if he'd been pushed. "I just saw her yesterday, Jack... You can't tell me she's dead! I won't fucking hear it!"

"Will, calm down!" Raising his hands in a supplicating gesture, Jack slowly came toward his friend. "Beverly's not dead... Her room at the Marriott was ransacked, so we think it was just a burglary gone wrong."

"What are her injuries?"

"She was sliced up pretty badly with some type of surgical tool. We'd ask her for the specifics, but as of right now she's in a coma."

"Christ..." Running a hand through his messy curls, Will heaved a shaky breath and shook his head. "Goddammit, Jack... We can't lose...I-I mean, _I_ can't lose..."

"I know, Will," Jack gently assured him. "I'd take you with me to the hospital, but they're not currently admitting any visitors."

"Well...will you let me know the minute they do?"

"Of course." Expression grave, Jack cleared his throat and added, "Dr. Bloom's flying in from Georgetown tonight, and she said she wants to see you. Are you up for that?"

Will gave a miserable huff. "I can't let Alana see me like this... Tell her we can meet at the hospital."

"Alright, Graham, if that's what you want."

"I do."

The two men parted ways then, and Abigail jumped when she heard the front door slam with a great _'bang.'_ As she opened her bedroom door and peered through the crack, she gasped when Will began to turn his heated frustrations toward the room around him. Pictures, glassware, equipment, plaques, and all sorts of breakable objects were heaved and smashed against the walls. The dogs whimpered and ran for safety.

Abigail, of course, had been listening to this exchange and knew what was going on. Though she'd been the one to warn Hannibal about Beverly's snooping, she honestly hadn't thought the agent survived. Had Hannibal been sloppy to teach Abigail a lesson?

Frowning, she only came back to reality when Will stormed into his room and continued the wrecking process. After at least two minutes of his screaming and carrying on, she heard a sound that made her pause in astonishment. A soft, pitiful sob reached her ears, followed soon after by what sounded like the compressing of a mattress.

Despite her better judgment, Abigail abandoned her room and slowly, stealthily peeked through his open door. The sight that greeted her made her chest tighten. There, doubled over at the foot of his bed was Will, his hands grasping his curls as he continued to heave several soft, fragile little sobs. The choking sounds coming from him honestly frightened Abigail. She'd never seen a man cry before - or at least, not quite on the level of broken despair that Will was exhibiting.

With a shamed cringe, Abigail gripped the door frame between her hands and resisted the urge to comfort him. He didn't need her - he'd proven time and time again he didn't _want_ her - so why did she think she could make all of his pain go away? She, after all, had been the one to cause it. And ironically? Abigail didn't feel the smug satisfaction she once thought she would.

Bowing her head, Abigail stepped forward and slowly closed the door. She couldn't bear to see Will this way any longer.

\--

That night, Abigail laid awake listening to the tortured noises coming from Will's room. He would be fine for about an hour - everything would be tranquil and back to normal - but then a soft, delicate keening would start up that ripped through Abigail like a steel-tipped blade. She couldn't take it any longer.

Getting out of bed, Abigail padded barefoot out into the hallway before knocking on his door.

She heard his sobs quell suddenly, then he gave a weak, "Yes? Is that you, Abby?"

Opening the door, Abigail peered in and gave him a sheepish smile. "Yes, I...well... I know I'm a little old to be having nightmares, but do you think that maybe... Maybe I could sleep with you tonight?"

She saw Will quickly wipe his eyes, then he sat up and flicked on a light. "Are you ok?"

Abigail felt her heart clench. Even when he was in pain, Will always seemed to put everyone else before himself. Did he think he was unworthy of protection?

Trying her best not to think about this, Abigail shyly stepped into the room and paused at the foot of his bed. "I'm ok," she finally said. "I just...I can't sleep now that I've had those horrible dreams. I thought I might feel better if...if I were with someone who could understand?"

Deep-down Abigail was doing this for Will. He needed a friend in that moment - someone who could hold and console him - and she also knew it would help her case if Will ever suspected her.

Fortunately for her, Will seemed to buy her story. He gave a weak smile and his red, puffy eyes crinkled with forced cheer as he scooted over.

Abigail promptly slid in beside him under the covers. A slight blush stained her cheeks when she recalled what had happened earlier that morning, and in that very same unmade bed. Now, however, was definitely not the time to be thinking about attraction and sexual desire. Will _needed_ her - she hated to admit that it felt _good_ to be needed.

Curling up beneath his chin, Abigail wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her lips against his clothed chest. She could feel his heart beating soundly beneath her kiss.

"Will?"

"Hmm?"

"You're a really good guy."

As Abigail drifted off in Will's arms, she thought she felt a warm, salty tear trickle down into her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though Will is very strong and crass in the books, I could honestly see TV!Will crying once he reaches his breaking point. He had tears in his eyes during the season finale, so I'm hoping that makes my theory seem more plausible. Anyway, in this story Beverly's accident was basically the tipping point for him. He's suffered countless failures (in his mind), so seeing how he failed to protect yet another person he loves made him snap. And even though Abigail feels badly for what she's done, don't expect her to put off her intentions.
> 
> About the love scene... At first I thought it was a bit unbelievable that Will could get off without waking up, but then I remembered how Hannibal put Abigail's ear down his throat without him waking, so hey! I think that proves it's fully possible! ;) Speaking of Hannibal, he'll finally make an appearance in the next chapter. :) His role will be much larger near the end of this story (which should be soon-ish).


	5. Phantom Limb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail develops a new plan.

Abigail awoke wrapped up in Will's strong, possessive arms, her head tucked beneath his chin and her leg trapped in between his knees. With her hands resting on his chest, she slowly disengaged herself and lifted her bleary gaze to his face. His lips were parted and his soft, warm breath tickled her brow as she smiled. He looked so peaceful in that moment... Had her presence truly abated his torment?

Brushing a stray lock of hair from Will's forehead, Abigail snuggled in closer and drifted her hand along the strong curve of his jaw. Despite his sallow complexion and unkempt state, he was still a very attractive man. And what's more, he seemed determined to risk anything and _everything_ for her. She could do a lot with a man like that.

Tracing her thumb across his lips, Abigail tested their softness and felt a deep, smoldering heat whip through her core. It was then that she realized she needed a baby. If she ever wanted Will to fully trust her again (and especially now that she was behind Beverly's attack), she needed to lure him in with a foolproof plan - one that ensured he could never turn her away.

Abigail gave a coy smile. Unfortunately for Hannibal, she'd need to take it a bit slowly - Will was the type of man who was easily scared off.

Tugging his arm around her waist, she burrowed up against him and pressed her cheek to his chest. Considering how this was the best sleep she'd had in ages, she didn't see the harm in staying in bed for a little while longer.

\--

By the time Will finally awoke, he discovered it was well after twelve in the afternoon. He hadn't slept that long - or that soundly - in years. Stretching out and finding that Abigail was no longer beside him, he groaned and rolled up into a sitting position. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he heard music coming from the neighboring room. It sounded like Abigail had found his record player.

Bewildered, Will pulled on some clothes and headed out into the living room. Sure enough, Abigail was standing in front of his old, dusty record player, her hips swinging back and forth as she thumbed through his albums. Will realized she was listening to Barry White.

Embarrassed by the upbeat, sexual song, he turned and tried to sneak back into his room.

"Oh hey, Will!"

_Dammit._

"Uhhh, hey, Abigail," he uneasily greeted. "If you want, I can take you out to buy an iPod so you don't have to mess with that old thing."

"No way! I love this kind of stuff." Setting the albums off to the side, she turned and gave him a mischievous little smile. "When's the last time you danced?"

"Uhhh...never."

 _"Never?_ Oh c'mon, I don't believe you!"

Will gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. "Alright, so you got me," he agreed. "When I had my senior prom in high school, I took my cousin Alma as a favor to my aunt. That was...an awkward experience, to say the least."

Abigail burst into a fit of laughter. "Your first dance was with your _cousin?"_

"Gee, thanks for reminding me why I've repressed that memory." Rolling his eyes, Will turned to leave, but gave a start when Abigail grabbed his arm.

"No, wait!" she urged. "If that was your first and last dancing experience, don't you think you owe it to yourself to have a newer and _better_ one?"

Will smirked. "Are you trying to suggest that _you_ are that 'newer and better' experience?"

Abigail mirrored his expression, her hand mockingly coming over her heart as she agreed, "Of course I am. Would you really be cruel enough to deny me?"

Will finally appeared embarrassed. "I...I don't know how to dance. When I tried it out on Alma, all we did was rock back and forth at a huge distance. We barely even touched each other."

Abigail snorted. "You must've been one hell of a sexually frustrated guy growing up. I mean, seriously...just _look_ at these albums! They're all about sex and romance!"

"They are _not!"_

Laughing at Will's defensive reaction, Abigail took his hands and placed them on her waist. "Just move when I do... C'mon, it's not hard."

"Abby, you're making me feel stupid..." Cheeks flushed, Will felt his palms grow damp against her lithe, undulating waist. He'd never seen a woman turn and twist their body in the way Abigail was doing, and it honestly embarrassed him. He felt as if he were seeing something he shouldn't be.

"Will, _c'mon!_ Don't just stand there!"

"What?" he defensively asked. "You don't actually expect me to twist and gyrate, do you? My body doesn't move like that!"

"Sissy!"

Abigail attempted to move in closer, but that's when Will's phone vibrated on the coffee table. "We'll continue this later," he assured her, but deep-down he was hoping she'd forget their little transgression.

Taking the phone and flipping it open, he read the words _"Visitors allowed. Come to hospital"_ and smiled.

Abigail noticed his relief and raised a brow. "What's up?"

"Beverly's allowed to have visitors now... I told Jack I'd visit the minute I was able to, so I've got to step out for a while."

"Oh...ok." Attempting to keep her face composed, Abigail ignored her pounding heart as Will ran to get his shoes. She needed to talk to Hannibal, and _fast._

\--

Despite Will having taken the car, Abigail had been able to walk into town and take the bus. It was the first time during their excursion that Hannibal had been willing to reveal his whereabouts. After the grand unveiling, she was surprised to learn he'd only been a few hours away this entire time. He'd enjoyed his seclusion in a very nice, comfortable hotel overlooking the water. Abigail was just a little bit jealous.

So now, staring back at him over the lattes they'd ordered at a local cafe, she frowned and leaned back in her seat. "Aren't you going to tell me what's different about you? I can't quite put my finger on it..."

"Chin implant," Hannibal disinterestedly said. "The delightful plastic surgeon also gave me cheek fillers."

Abigail tried to hide her smile, fore she found it amusing how Hannibal refused to alter the appearance of his nose - he was afraid surgery would affect his keen sense of smell. After wiping her mouth on a napkin, she nodded and said, "The change is very good... I barely even recognized you."

Hannibal still appeared disinterested, so Abigail tried another approach. "Beverly Katz...why didn't you kill her?"

He shrugged. "The agent was not a part of my plans - I found it unnecessary to harm her beyond repair."

"So in other words, you wanted to teach me a lesson for being careless."

Hannibal shrugged again. "If that is what you wish to believe."

Frustrated, Abigail tightened her grip on her mug and frowned. "Well thanks to your being such a 'Good Samaritan,' Agent Katz might spill the beans. How can you promise she didn't see your face?"

"If she saw me, it was my new face that she beheld."

Abigail pursed her lips, considering this. "Ok...so you don't think she'll link this back to me?"

"Indeed, I do not."

She relaxed. In a considerably brighter mood now, Abigail leaned toward the table and said, "Will never believed her, you know. He defended me...he said Katz was wrong about my ulterior motive."

Hannibal's lips lifted into the faintest hints of a smile. "You never stopped being the one good thing in his life, širdelė - even when you committed murder, he refused to believe the worst of you. Why should now be any different?"

"I don't know, I just...he didn't seem like Will Graham at first."

"Oh?"

"He's kind of . . . a drunk." Wincing when she caught the curl of Hannibal's lip, Abigail quickly backpedaled, "But don't worry, Papa, he's stopped drinking ever since I arrived. I think he's trying to turn himself around."

"One can only hope," Hannibal muttered. "He is of no use to the world as a groveling, untidy plebeian sucking nectar from a keg's teat."

Abigail recalled Will's initial behavior and agreed. "He's much more conscious of his appearance now, so I'm sure I can get him to throw out the alcohol before long."

"You mean to say you haven't already?"

Abigail bristled. "To be fair, Papa, if you hadn't used me as bait in the first place, Will wouldn't have turned to booze for comfort. You can't pin this all on me."

Hannibal's smile was serpentine. "Perhaps not, mažai žiedų, but you must admit you cannot argue with the majority of the results. Aside from the tragic setback of alcoholic consumption, Will played into our set-up quite nicely."

Abigail glanced down at her lap. "So then you approve of my progress?"

"It is adequate, yes."

Abigail hated how his compliments were always backhanded. Re-adjusting the scarf around her neck, she crisply promised him, "I'll have Will at our mercy within two months - you can go ahead and mark that on your calendar." Even though she knew it wasn't wise to make such bold remarks, his dismissive apathy had wounded her pride. She wanted to prove once and for all that they were equals.

As she rose from the table and stalked off without another word, she failed to notice Hannibal raising his mug in a mock salute.

\--

Like with all hospitals, Beverly's room was small, sterile, and lacking any type of personality. It guilted Will all the more. As he hesitantly crossed the threshold, he took in her petite, pallid frame and instantly felt sick. The whole left side of her face was bruised and swollen, and several IVs and tubes snaked into various portions of her body. The gashes were simultaneously precise and lazy - it was almost as if the perp had only wanted to maim and not kill. Perhaps this proved Jack's botched robbery theory?

Suddenly overcome by nausea, Will dropped down to his knees and dry-heaved into a trash can. Quivering and shaking, he found that he tasted bile despite not being able to properly vomit. Running a hand over his mouth, he squeezed his eyes tightly closed and tried to drown out the sound of his own heart beat.

Finally garnering the strength to rise, Will turned toward Beverly and flexed his hands. The breathing tube in her mouth obstructed any possibility of speech, but deep-down he knew she wouldn't awaken. Maybe she never would...

Moving toward her on unsteady legs, Will finally collapsed into the chair at her side and winced. This time there was no going back. This time he'd failed in every sense of the word, and the proof was in the spilt blood of the woman who'd only wanted to help.

Hesitantly reaching out a hand, Will grasped Beverly's open fingers and gave them a squeeze. He sat like that for several minutes, staring numbly out the bleak window as the damnable heart monitor continued to beep. It wasn't until he heard a clearing throat that he lurched to attention, his lips parting in shock when he realized someone was standing in the doorway. It was Alana Bloom.

"Hi," she softly greeted. She came toward him then, her heels clacking as her pencil skirt barely allowed her the room to move. She looked good.

Studying Alana's warm, but guarded eyes and her small, brittle smile, Will decided to at least be polite and rose to greet her.

"Hi," he echoed.

With a light sheen of tears on her lashes, Alana pulled him in for a tight and proper embrace. Her curls tickled his nose when she rubbed his back.

"It's so good to see you," she whispered, nuzzling him.

She smelled of honeysuckle and jasmines.

Nodding dumbly, Will gave a feeble, "Yeah," and felt her withdraw. With her hands still on his shoulders, he forced himself to return her gaze and said, "I wish you could've come under...under better circumstances."

"Me, too." Alana's eyes were soft and pained, like a blue ocean of despair. "It's not really fair, is it? How our moments together always seem to be lined with tragedy?"

Will dipped his head and scuffed his shoe. "Why did you want to see me?" Catching the surprise on her face, he hurriedly backpedaled, "I-I mean, it's just...I wouldn't have expected this after everything that's happened."

"Will, you're my friend...why would I let a brief romance ruin that?"

"Well..."

"I just wanted to see how you were holding up." Gaze lowering, she whispered, "I had a feeling that you'd take the news of Beverly's accident pretty badly, so I just wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid."

Will bristled. "You came out here because...because you thought I'd commit _suicide?"_

"Don't act like you've never tried before," she snapped. "I was there during your trial...I was _there_ when you thought you'd killed Abigail Hobbs."

Will swallowed. "Things have changed... _I've_ changed."

"So I see." Studying him more closely now, Alana appeared sympathetic as she observed, "You're too thin, Will. Have you been eating?"

"Enough."

"Would you like me to make you some-?"

"I'm _fine,_ goddammit! I need a friend right now, not a mother!"

Stunned into silence, Alana gave a slight nod and re-adjusted her blouse. "Alright...there's no need to shout."

"Sorry."

Will knew it wasn't her fault - she'd had every right to be worried about him, considering his checkered past. On the night before the trial, he'd tried to slit his wrists with a makeshift blade. He still had the thin, frantic little marks to prove it. He hadn't wanted to live in a world where no one believed him...in a world where Abigail Hobbs no longer existed.

Will wanted so badly in that moment to tell Alana everything, because he knew she'd loved Abigail, too. She'd taken the news very hard. Instead, he mumbled a hushed, "I'm glad you came."

Alana smiled. Reaching in between them, she took his hands and ran her thumbs across his palms. "Me, too."

\--

After his sobering talk with Alana, Will had gone straight home and shut himself in his room. He was too exhausted - too mentally fatigued - and he knew he couldn't face Abigail in that moment.

He stood shirtless in front of his bed, hand trembling as he ran his fingers along the raised, puffy scar trailing from his hip to his opposite rib. Will had nearly been gutted like a pig. Even though Hannibal had said they were equals, that hadn't kept him from being fileted.

Quivering more fully now, Will released a breath and closed his eyes.

"Does it hurt?"

Startled, he whirled around and beheld the wide-eyed, sweet innocence of his ward. He decided not to bullshit her.

"Sometimes it hurts," he softly said. "It's kind of like a phantom limb...even though it's healed, every now and then I can feel myself being cut open."

Abigail moved toward him then, her eyes like a bright, electrical fire as her palm opened flat against his scar. "You're my phantom limb, Will," she whispered. "Even though our bond's been severed, I can still feel you there... It's why I needed to come find you - to see for myself that you were still alive." She studied him, hoping that he'd bought her line of devotion.

Tracing her finger along the looped, relatively even slice, she gave a start when Will seized her by the wrist.

His gaze was sharp, yet startled, his lips twisting as an inner battled raged on behind his eyes. He didn't know what to do. After a moment his grip relaxed, then he slowly, hesitantly slid his hand up her arm. Before Abigail could even think to speak, he grasped the back of her neck - gently, not firmly - and ran the pad of his thumb along the garish pink mark on her throat.

Will heard her gasp. It was a harsh, choking sound - almost as if he'd stripped the very air from her lungs. Tracing the curve of her cheek, he tucked his hand beneath her hair and stroked along the hard, knotted scar tissue where her ear had once been.

Abigail was paralyzed to the spot. Lips flapping soundlessly, she gave a harsh exhalation as unshed tears stung her eyes. It hurt...oh god, it _hurt_ to have someone acknowledge the ugliest parts of her. How could Will even touch them? She was repulsive!

Quivering, Abigail attempted to move away, but that's when Will pressed his warm, soft mouth against her forehead. The gentleness of his touch left her frozen in shock. His hands cupped her cheeks, stroking them as his eyes grew tragic.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help..."

Abigail's voice caught as she whispered back, "I'm sorry, too."

_For everything._

Her hands came up between them then like a weak, pathetic shield, palms facing upward as she placed them defensively against Will's chest. She could feel his heart beating like hooves against cobblestone. His forehead was now touching hers, and his breath scorched her upper lip as he cradled her face in between his hands. There was so much warmth and calm in that moment - moving her... _consoling_ her as his thumb traced the curve of her mouth. Her lips instinctively parted.

Gripping at his elbows, Abigail closed her eyes and leaned forward, her heart pounding as Will's lips barely brushed against her own. When she attempted to complete the kiss, she felt him quiver and promptly shrink back.

"Go to bed, Abigail."

"Oh, b-but I...I thought I would sleep here again?"

"Not tonight," he rasped.

Normally Abigail would give in for the sake of the plan, but not anymore - not when _he_ had been the one to initiate their intimacy.

Curling her hands into two tight fists, she shook them at her sides and shouted, "What the hell is wrong with you, huh? You were the one to touch _me,_ but somehow _I'm_ the one in the wrong?"

"Abby, I just..."

"Quit being so weird around me, Will... _Please!"_

He swallowed sharply, his chin quivering as he whispered back, "I just want to protect you..."

"From what?"

"From _me!"_

Will dropped down to his knees and grasped Abigail's waist, almost desperate as he shuddered and buried his face against her stomach. With his lips brushing against the material of her nightgown, he shook his head and begged, "Let me keep you safe, Abby... _please."_ His fingers dug lightly into her hips, his exhalations burning hot between them as he closed his eyes. Even if Abigail was in his house, he still felt the underlying fear of losing her...of awakening one morning and finding that her return was only a dream.

Confused by the sudden change in Will's demeanor, Abigail placed her hands on his head and slowly, uncertainly began to brush her fingers through his curls. He responded by pressing his face more deeply into her waist, almost behaving as if he were trying to bask in her sanity...as if that alone would take away the nightmares.

And then something new happened to Abigail's heart: it broke.

"Will," she gently beseeched, "Will, please get up..." When he didn't move, she lowered herself down to his level and lifted his face, her hands cupping his cheeks as she forced him to return her gaze. "Will, it's alright... If you want me to leave, I will."

"No," he choked. Wincing at the desperation in his tone, he leaned into her touch and grasped her hips. "Stay with me, please."

Abigail tried her best not to smile in triumph. Even though he'd continuously denied her all this time, she knew he wanted her - she _knew_ it. His odd, possessive streak was bound to fester and develop into something more. She'd seen men fall for women over far less.

"Get up," she urged again. Helping Will to his feet, Abigail pulled back the covers and ushered him into his bed, her lithe form following soon after and pressing up against his backside. She felt a shudder rack through his body.

Deep inside, Will was embarrassed by his actions. He hadn't meant to snap, and he most certainly hadn't meant to become so emotional. It almost felt as if he'd shown her his heart - bleeding and torn and dying - and had entrusted his deepest, darkest secrets into her hands.

As Will contemplated all of this, Abigail hugged him fondly from behind.

"It'll be ok, Will," he heard her whisper. He shivered from where her breath tickled his neck.

When he turned his head to tell her goodnight, she surprised him by pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his mouth. It had been quick - innocent - though when she pulled away, his face was burning from the inexplicable sensations rushing throughout.

Will curled up in shame - he was a horrible guardian. A simple act of affection like a hug or kiss should've felt normal with Abigail, but when she expressed herself in this way, forbidden urges and a deep-seated longing consumed him like a raging storm.

But no...he wasn't like that. He _wasn't!_

Desperate to prove this theory correct, Will gave a fragile little smile and cupped Abigail's cheek, stroking along the curve of her face while whispering, "Goodnight, Abby."

She smiled and kissed his forehead. "Goodnight, Will."

But just like before the odd, warming sensation flooded throughout his limbs, and he felt the blood rush straight to his groin. He rolled over before groaning into his pillow. Despite the fear and desire raging through his body, the soft, delicate stroking of Abigail's hands made his eyelids flutter, then close. He fell asleep not long after.


	6. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail seduces Will.

Will needed a shower. He'd awoken to Abigail's soft, searching hand kneading him between the legs, and it had startled him so badly that he'd nearly taken her arm off. Upon further inspection, he'd realized Abigail was asleep. Though odd for a girl to do such a thing while dreaming, he hadn't had the heart – nor the nerve – to wake her.

Instead, Will had gone straight to the bathroom and promptly locked the door. He figured he could jerk off and then act like everything was normal, but the idea of touching himself because of Abigail unnerved him. She was his _ward,_ and it bothered him that he had to keep reminding himself of the fact.

With a groan, Will pressed his face against the shower tiling and slowly, shakily got a firm grip on himself. His body hummed with anticipation. Beginning to slide through the tight grasp of his fingers, he clenched his teeth and pictured Abigail's warm, alluringly bright smile, and her startling blue eyes of cauliflower.

 _Fuck._ Why couldn't he stop thinking of her? It was _wrong_ to desire someone of her purity – she trusted him. He could _never_ break that trust.

"Will?"

He gasped, freezing in place as the water continued to assault his body. "Uhh…yes?" he feebly called.

"Um, could you maybe hurry up? I have to pee."

Will trembled. The sound of her voice was nearly enough to make him orgasm right then and there. A tingle formed in the pit of his stomach, and his hips writhed as he continued to pull on himself. Having the object of his desires so close by made his actions all the more arousing.

"I, uh…well…" He shuddered, stifling a groan as his pumps grew more rough and spirited.

"Hurry _up!"_

"I-I am, I just… _shit!"_ Embarrassed that he'd lost control, Will's cheeks flushed as he arched his back and came hard.

After running his messy fingers underneath the shower head, he realized that he'd orgasmed with Abigail _right_ outside the bathroom door. Shakily turning off the water, he stepped out of the tub and slipped a towel around his waist.

When he opened the door, he found a very impatient Abigail Hobbs on the other side. "Well, it's about damn time! I thought I was going to have to break the door down!"

"I…sorry."

Abigail grumbled to herself as she moved to step past him. Will exhaled, but gave a sharp jerk when her palm smacked flat against his ass. When he turned around to berate her, the door had already slammed soundly in his face. He could hear her laughing on the other side.

\--

For the first time in two years, Abigail wore her hair back. Despite her initial reservations, she no longer felt the need to hide who she was – to cover up her blemish as though it were shameful. If Will wasn't repulsed by her disfigurement, why should she be?

Shrugging it off, Abigail left her room and came strolling into the kitchen. Will was at the table reading a newspaper. To her surprise, he flashed her a bright and encouraging smile. "I like your hair like that," he warmly said. "You look really nice."

Abigail blushed. "I…thank you." Awkwardly going to the pantry, she grabbed some cereal since she wasn't in the mood to cook. She knew Hannibal would be appalled.

"So, uh…I've got to go back to the hospital today, but after that I'm all yours." Mentally chiding himself for how that had sounded, Will winced and quickly amended, "I-I mean, uh…is there anything special you wanted to do today?"

Abigail sat across from him and smirked. "As I recall, our so-called fishing trip was supposed to be 'special.' Are you going to bail on our new plans, too?"

"I-I didn't bail, I just…it was very poorly planned."

"I'll say." Abigail's tone was pleased and smug. "Truthfully, you don't need to worry about me… You just go to the hospital, and then when you come back we can eat dinner. Sound fair?"

Will smiled. "Um…well yeah, of course – why are you assuming I'll be out so late?"

"Because you've been smiling a lot, and you seem to be in a really good mood. My guess is Agent Katz is awake, or well on her way to getting there."

"I can't deny that." Will's smile widened as he placed his cell phone onto the table. "I got the news just before you came in, actually."

Abigail felt her heart plummet. Had his compliment only been because of his warm, relieved feelings over Beverly Katz?

Shaking it off, she reached across the table and grabbed his hand, sliding her fingers along his calloused skin. "I'm glad," she lied. "I don't like seeing you mopey all the time."

Will lifted his palm and clasped Abigail's hand in his, marveling at the softness of her skin against his own. And though innocent in nature, the act made his cheeks burn. The thought of what he'd done with that hand, and how Abigail was now so fondly holding it made his mouth go dry. He felt as if he'd be needing another shower.

Instead, Will quickly rose and tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Well, uh…I guess I'd better head on out. Are you sure you'll be fine staying here all by yourself?"

Abigail's smile was wry. "Will, I'm twenty-one years old – I'm sure I'll find some way to entertain myself."

He nodded, then moved to kiss her cheek. But just like the night before, he noticed how she tried to move her yearning mouth right in front of his. He wasn't falling for _that_ trick again.

Managing to avoid her eager kiss, he instead pressed his lips to her forehead and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking along the soft curve of her face. "I'll see you later, Abby."

"Bye…" Watching after him until he disappeared from sight, Abigail groaned and rested her head on the table. She should've bought a vibrator when she had the chance.

\--

By the time Will reached the hospital, his awkward morning was long since forgotten. However, this was only because he'd been faced with a _new_ embarrassing plight: choosing some flowers for Beverly.

Though the sales clerk was helpful and polite, he still felt like a heel as he ultimately picked what had been suggested. He was awful when it came to this sort of thing. Hopefully Beverly would appreciate the gift, if only to make him feel like he'd done at least _something_ right.

So now, milling around in front of her hospital door, he only poked his head in when he heard Beverly give an impatient clear of the throat. He crossed the threshold and smiled. "Uhh…hey, Bev. How are you feeling?"

When her gaze drifted down toward the modest bouquet in his hand, his expression grew anxious and uncertain. "I, uh…I hope you like roses. The woman at the gift shop said all women do."

"Yeah? Well she suckered you into making a big purchase, pal, 'cause roses are one of the most expensive flowers." Beverly's face suddenly brightened. "But fortunately for you? I happen to love them."

Will mirrored her smile and set them onto a table. After wiping his hands on his slacks, he returned to her side and asked, "How's the food? I've heard it's capable of curling your hair."

"You mean I could be getting a low cost perm right now? Sign me up!" Beverly grinned, but then her face suddenly darkened into a look of concentration. "Jack stopped by this morning, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh, and before you ask the same thing he did, no, I did _not_ see the assailant's face. He grabbed me from behind, and that was that."

Will frowned. "So…you saw absolutely _nothing?_ Did you at least hear a voice?"

"No, nothing... And if I'm being perfectly honest, I don't remember anything about that day at all."

"You don't?" Feeling his heart pound, Will weakly asked, "Do you…do you remember stopping by my place for a quick visit?"

Beverly raised a brow. "Are you kidding me right now? Holy shit…how could I forget a thing like _that?_ You must've been boring as hell."

With a weak little laugh, Will was overcome by shame at the amount of relief he felt from hearing this bit of news. That meant Abigail was safe – it meant _Beverly_ was safe – and he could continue to protect both women from whatever threats were coming their way.

\--

When Will finally returned from the hospital, Abigail was waiting for him with several dishes that he couldn't even pronounce. He'd complimented her exceptional cooking skills, of course, but she noticed that throughout the meal he'd barely even looked at her. His eyes would come toward her one minute, only to flicker away the next.

Abigail had a feeling she knew why. Due to her wanting a baby, she'd decided to change into a thin, diaphanous white top that clung to her curves and left very little to the imagination . . . especially since she wasn't wearing a bra.

Pleased with herself, she leaned across the table to pick up Will's dirty dishes – and, of course, she arched her back to pronounce her breasts – but he surprised her by taking the cups and plates from her grasp.

"No, no, I'll do it," Will mumbled. With his gaze downcast, he practically sprinted into the kitchen.

Abigail grinned. "I wanna help!" she called after him. "You said I could do whatever I wanted today, and I'm choosing this."

Joining him in the kitchen, she watched as he filled up the sink and reluctantly moved over.

"Do you, uh…do you even know how to do the dishes?"

"Are you kidding me right now? I grew up in a modest, resourceful family – we did _not_ have a dish washer." Picking up a clean towel, she brightened and said, "I'll dry if you clean."

Will finally cracked a smile at that. "Picking the better job, I see… Oh well, I suppose that's fair."

Abigail grinned and joined him at the sink, her shoulder brushing against his arm as he submerged a plate. For once he didn't even flinch… Could it be that he no longer minded her touching him?

Considerably encouraged by this, Abigail dried the plate he handed her and smiled. "Sooo," she coyly began, "what was it like growing up as the 'illustrious Will Graham'?"

For once Abigail wasn't asking because of some dark, hidden agenda, but out of genuine curiosity. She wanted to know more about her guardian…about the man who saw the beauty in her when no one else could.

"I…uh…" Will paused, shrugging as he scrubbed a pan. "My childhood's actually pretty boring."

"Yeah, right! Your life is _anything_ but boring."

Will considered this, his lips twisting as he passed her the pan. "My father was a mechanic…he taught me everything I know. And my mother? Well…the less said about her, the better." His eyes stung as he pictured her waving goodbye, leaving him behind with his father's strong, reassuring hand on his shoulder. They never saw her again.

"And?"

Will looked over at Abigail, blinking slowly before realizing she wanted him to continue. "…And that's pretty much it. I guess I've always known there was something 'off' about me, but I didn't get to fully put my experience to the test until college."

"And your dad…what happened to him?"

Will faltered, picturing his father's tan, grease-streaked face as he'd lift a filthy hand in greeting.

"…He died."

Abigail blanched. "Oh…I'm so sorry." Gazing up at him, she realized he looked upset. But before she could even think to apologize, Will was taking the sink hose and spraying it directly in her face.

_"Will!"_

He laughed, dodging her swipes as she shrieked.

Coughing and sputtering, Abigail lurched toward the sink and tried to gather a handful of water. After heaving the suds at Will's unsuspecting midriff, she grabbed his wrists and they struggled to take control of the hose. In the process they soaked the floor, the walls, and of course each other.

When the water trickled to a stop, Will gave Abigail a boyish grin and teased, "Uhh, _whoops?_ Guess my finger slipped."

"It did _not,_ you liar!"

He laughed at her disgusted reaction, the crows' feet around his eyes crinkling warmly as he brushed back a long, sopping wet tendril of her hair. She returned his gaze then and he paused, gradually losing his smile as he ran his thumb down the slope of her cheek. "Would you like a robe?"

Abigail nodded, feeling a bit breathless from the deep, intense way he was looking at her. "Um…yeah, I'd say that'd definitely be helpful."

Will grinned and urged her to come with him. After fishing a couple plain, simple robes out of his bedroom closet, he tossed one to Abigail and urged, "There you go – though you might want to get out of those wet clothes before you put it on." As he said this, his gaze helplessly drifted down to the saturated, completely see-through front of Abigail's shirt. The material clung to her dusky pink nipples and her taut, trim waist, causing him to suck in a breath and immediately turn away. He had no business seeing Abigail at her most vulnerable, especially since she didn't even know she was being exposed.

But Abigail _did_ know – she'd taken care to soak her shirt during their little play fight, and now she could see her efforts were paying off. When she glanced down at Will's crotch, she noted how his arousal was tenting his pants. The sight filled her with immense pride – so much so that as she left the room, her hips began to swing in a pleased, overly exaggerated swagger.

When she was finally gone from sight, Will winced and turned his attention to disrobing. The wet material of his shirt clung to him, though once it was removed from his body like a second skin, he shivered from the sensation of being exposed to the chilly air.

His pants were much more difficult. Fussing with the zipper, he hissed as he slowly, painfully removed his arousal from its cloth confines. Slipping out of his boxer briefs as well, he decided he didn't have time to jerk off. Abigail would be expecting him back soon, so he'd just grin and bear it and act as if everything was normal. He had a feeling he was in for a long evening.

Once he'd managed to at least control his demeanor, Will headed into the living room and spotted Abigail on the couch. She smiled up at him, the glow from the fire making her look especially radiant. "I hope you don't mind, but I helped myself to your firewood… It was really cold in here!"

"Of course not," Will assured her. "That's what it's there for."

He paused a moment, then cautiously approached the couch. "Do you mind if I sit for a while?"

"Why would I mind? It's your house." Abigail curled her legs up beneath her and watched him carefully, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she searched his lower body. He was still aroused.

Unfortunately for Abigail, Will seemed more interested in reading than giving in to his desires. He plucked a book off the end table, then flipped it open to the last place where he'd left off.

Crawling over to him, Abigail snuggled up against his side and peered down at the page. "What are you reading?"

"Um…just a fantasy book from the library. I highly doubt you'd be interested."

"Ok, so then why are _you_ interested?"

Will paused, his eyes growing dark as he said, "It distracts me from the horrors of the world…it's nice to briefly live in a make believe place where everything's warm and carefree."

Studying his face with gentle eyes, Abigail smiled and said, "That actually sounds pretty perfect. Think I could borrow it sometime?"

Will mirrored her smile and nodded. "Sure."

The two stayed like that for several minutes – Abigail with her head on his shoulder and Will reading – but before long, the former began to grow restless.

Sliding a hand down the front of Will's robe, Abigail moved to dip her fingers beneath the fabric just as he caught her wrist.

"Abby, what are you doing?"

"I…I just…" Flustered, she weakly said, "I thought you wanted me to."

_"What?"_

Shamed by his horrified reaction, Abigail withdrew and uncomfortably glanced to the side. "You're turned on, so I just… I-I mean, I guess I thought you wanted me to go down on you."

By now Will's face was so red that she thought he was going to burst. "Abby, I would _never_ ask you to do that."

"Well why not? Don't you think I'm attractive?"

Tasting bile, he trembled and shakily put his book off to the side. "Of course I find you attractive…you're a very beautiful girl. B-but that's not the point, ok? You can't touch me, and I can't touch you."

Abigail's gaze was smoldering now, a hand slipping beneath her robe as she asked, _"Do_ you want to touch me? Do you ever think of it?"

"Abby…"

"I do," she whispered. "I think about touching you all the time. If you ever want to touch me back, I'll let you." She spread her legs and grabbed his hand, guiding it between her thighs until she felt his fingers brush her entrance. Will jerked back in shock. She was so deliciously _wet,_ and the surprise of finding her without panties had rendered him speechless.

Gliding her free hand through Will's damp curls, Abigail leaned forward and brushed her lips against his chin. She could hear him panting as his heart rate increased. Emboldened by this response, she slid a hand through the slit of his robe and felt the soft, raised flesh of his scar. He quivered beneath her touch.

"Abby," he rasped, "Abby, wait…"

"I want you, Will," she pleaded. Bringing her lips to his exposed chest, she felt him writhe beneath her as her mouth burned a slow and sensual trail toward his hips. When she reached the largest curve of his scar, her tongue darted out to lave the saltiness of his skin.

"Stop," Will begged. Trembling and breathless, he forced her mouth off his scar and cupped her face, palming her cheeks as he miserably shook his head. "Abby, we can't… I'm your guardian…That means I'm supposed to take care of you."

Abigail gave him a sultry smile. "Yeah? So take care of me."

Grabbing Will by the collar, she forced their hips together and began to slowly grind against his arousal. He choked and threw his head back, his fingers digging into her thighs as he helplessly arched into her touch.

Panting against her lips, Will shook his head and whispered, "Abby, I…I can't do this…"

"Why not?" she whispered back, nuzzling him.

It was then that Will realized he loved Abigail. Her affections had baited and tortured him, forcing him to feel again and exude a new zest for life. She was all at once his savior and devil, making his heart rise or plummet with just a single glance. It didn't even frighten him to realize he'd die for her.

Tying the sash to Abigail's robe, Will kissed her forehead and rested his cheek against hers. "We can't do this, Abby – you deserve so much more than me."

Though his actions would be chivalrous to most, Abigail took it more as the sting of rejection. "Stop it," she pleaded. "I don't want your pity."

"Why would I pity you?" Will asked, bewildered. "Last time I checked, we were about equal when it came to being fucked up."

Equal… Did Will really think of her that way? It honestly made her heart hurt, for she'd struggled _so_ hard to make Hannibal see her in that light. Why did Will, a man she was only now getting to know, see more in her than her own surrogate father?

Without meaning to, Abigail burst into tears.

"Whoa, whoa, hey…are you alright? What did I say?" Anxious and upset with himself, Will brushed the hair from her eyes and tried to get her to return his gaze. "Is there anything I can do?"

Abigail hiccuped. She knew exactly what he could do, but was too afraid of another rejection. Instead, she leaned forward and cradled his face between her hands, studying his confused gaze while stroking his stubble.

"Abby, I…"

"Shh." Angling her mouth over his, she felt his breath hitch when her lips slowly touched his own. The kiss was firm, but gentle, her courage growing as he cupped the small of her back.

Will's mouth parted then, and Abigail deepened the kiss, her tongue slipping past his lips as he made a soft noise in the back of his throat. It was a first for her – she'd never truly kissed a man like this – and she explored him with her tongue, drinking him as he groaned and grasped her shoulders. His hands slid into her hair as he finally returned the kiss, his tongue seeking hers as he felt her squeeze his throbbing hardness.

He broke away with a breathless gasp. "Abby, don't…"

"I want to," she whispered back. "Please, Will…let me make you happy."

"You _already_ make me happy."

Frustrated, Abigail tugged on his robe until it gave way. Will scrambled to try and cover himself back up, but she slid more fully into his lap, her knees pinning the fabric down at his sides. He could feel his heart pounding in his temples. Even though he was perfectly capable of stopping Abigail, there was a twisted part of him that genuinely wanted this – that wanted _her_ – and deep-down he would never deny her anything she desired. He hated to see her left wanting.

Finally, he looked up at her and choked, "If we're going to do this, I…I want to prepare you first. That way it won't hurt as bad."

Stunned by his sudden acquiescence, Abigail gripped the sash of her robe and blushed. "I…alright," she agreed.

Hesitantly parting her robe, Abigail allowed the fabric to spill over her shoulders and billow around her hips. Her breasts heaved as he appraised her, the firelight flickering across her pale, porcelain skin as her eyes darted down to her lap.

Will quivered, his mouth going dry as he basked in her blushing nudity. She was beautiful – _painfully_ beautiful – and he found that he was afraid to touch her...afraid of what it might do to him.

Now urging Abigail more fully into his lap, Will shivered and placed a hand on her waist. His fingers slid reverently across her skin, his breathing tremulous as he nosed her cheek. With his lips ghosting along the curve of her mouth, he pressed a gentle, tentative kiss to the corner of her lips.

Abigail shuddered and grasped his shoulders. With her nails digging into his skin, she weakly begged, _"Please…"_

Hesitating for only a moment, Will cupped Abigail's cheek and urged his mouth strongly over hers, pushing on her hips so that she was forced to grind against his erection. She whimpered at the sudden pleasure.

The ugliness of Will's mind struggled for attention then – death, gore, and guilt waved their ugly heads and attempted to snap him back to his cold reality – but he ignored them all, now kissing Abigail with an almost aggressive intensity. He didn't want to remember…he only wanted her.

Sighing into her open mouth, he licked at her warm haven and tangled his fingers through her hair. Abigail kissed him back just as greedily. She was starved for love and affection – for validation – and Will was giving her all of this and more.

Taking him by the wrist, Abigail struggled for breath as she slid his hand between her thighs. It was clear what she wanted in that moment, but at the same time she was afraid. The first time was supposed to be painful.

Seeming to sense this, Will stroked along her entrance and urged, "Tell me if it hurts, ok?"

Abigail nodded, breathless. "Ok."

Trembling, she felt his mouth burn a fiery trail from her throat to her shoulder as he moved, his hand testing her wetness before he eased a finger inside her slick heat. Abigail gasped at the sensation, her toes curling as she tried to get him to go deeper.

"More," she pleaded.

Unable to deny her, Will nipped at her skin and slowly, carefully slid another finger inside her, his digits now scissoring back and forth as he tried to open her up.

Abigail cried out at the uncomfortable ache, her teeth gritting as she squirmed and tried to meet with the thrust of his fingers.

Will jerked back in surprise. "A-are you ok?"

She nodded, wincing as she tugged on his wrist and tried to get him to slide in deeper. "Keep going," she begged.

He appeared uncertain at first, but after a few more moments of her pleading, he drove another finger into her tight passage. His cock strained painfully as he heard her give a soft cry. Arching her back, Abigail placed her hands on his knees to brace herself, her eyes closing as she began to gradually, yet forcefully undulate her hips. Each revolution caused his fingers to drill a bit deeper, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as the discomfort finally transformed into a warm, thrilling pleasure that made her throb around him.

Cheeks flushed, Abigail brought her lips to Will's throat and pleaded against his skin, "I need it…please, Will. I know I'm ready."

She felt him withdraw and tremble.

"I-I don't want to hurt you," he whispered back.

Though his devotion was touching, she still needed a baby. "I want this," she insisted, her eyes bright and determined as she arched her hips into his. Her slick entrance brushed the length of him and he groaned, clenching his teeth as she teased him with her slit.

With his hands on her hips, Will shuddered and gave a barely perceptible nod. Abigail smiled in triumph. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she hovered over his erection before pressing against his tip. Both gave a lustful shout when she parted over him, her wet sheath snugly taking him in as she eased herself down his length.

Will buried his face against her shoulder and shivered. With his short nails digging into her back, he moaned softly as she sank all the way down to the hilt.

The pain was short and sharp, but Abigail didn't want to stay still. Easing back up his throbbing hardness, she bit back a cry and bucked her hips, mimicking the earlier motion of his fingers in her cunt.

Will steeled back a hiss. Digging his fingers into her waist, he groaned and began to propel her with his hands, her body jouncing as she gave a breathless gasp. The pleasure was incredible – each time Abigail came down, Will would jerk his hips in offering, his length grazing all of her nerve endings and causing her to cry out.

Tossing her head back, she gave another sharp, unbridled moan when his hand came between her legs. As he licked the shell of her ear, his thumb and forefinger lightly stroked and squeezed her clit.

Mouth opening in a silent scream, Abigail clung to Will and began to harshly ride him into the couch, each thrust of her hips growing more and more aggressive as he tried to get her off.

Now rotating her hips in a counter rhythm to his thrusts, Abigail yelped when Will bit her shoulder and jerked up with several measured, yet forceful jabs. Each drive of his cock caused her breasts to bounce, her nails digging into his skin and leaving several bloody half-moons in their wake. Will cried out then and she gasped, feeling him pulse inside her as she began to come undone. His body went taut and he arched his back, jerking erratically inside her as her walls clamped down around him.

Will tried to pull out then but Abigail stopped him, locking her knees as she forced him to drive back up inside her heat. She frantically rode out the wave of her orgasm, her hips rocking as she squeezed her inner muscles in a quick, desperate attempt at keeping his seed inside her body.

Will groaned and went limp in her arms.

Gasping for breath, Abigail leaned forward and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Thank you," she whispered.

She was going to be pregnant – she _knew_ she was.

Brushing the hair back from her face, Will gave a tired smile and slid his hand down her cheek. He wanted to tell her he loved her – that she was beautiful and perfect and had saved him from self-extermination – but instead he decided on a soft, "Let's go to bed."

Abigail smiled and snuggled up beneath his chin. "Always the taskmaster, aren't you?"

He laughed, his eyes twinkling as he brushed his lips against her hair. "Well _someone's_ got to be the villain here, don't they?"

Abigail's smile vanished. Hiding her face against his chest, she tried to ignore the cold, gnawing guilt that clawed away at her gut. _She_ was the villain, and Will, who was clearly happy and reliant on her companionship, would soon find his world turned upside down just like before…only worse. This time he would be betrayed by someone close to the heart.

Swallowing back her nausea, Abigail quivered as she choked out, "Will, I…I need to tell you something."

"Sure, sweetheart – what's on your mind?"

Looking up into his eyes – warm and blue and full of deep affection – she lost her breath and ducked her chin. "Nothing, I just…I'm really glad we found each other again."

Will rubbed her shoulders and smiled. "Me, too."

Something about his voice seemed so warm and hopeful that it felt as if a sharp, curved blade were being twisted into her heart. Pressing her face against his chest, Abigail squeezed her eyes tightly closed and winced. She was being ridiculous – she _knew_ she was – but deep-down she'd grown to care for Will, if only just a little. If she couldn't fight past this, Hannibal would be right about her; she'd be damned if she let that happen.

Determined, Abigail stroked Will's arm and made a decision: she would take him to Hannibal like she promised. Fuck her feelings. In the end, only her father's approval mattered.


	7. Facing the Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail feels conflicted; Hannibal comes to collect.
> 
> WARNING: mild sexual content and sensitive subject matter.

Will laid awake in bed, marveling at the softness of Abigail's beauty. Trailing a hand down the curve of her hip, he spread his fingers across her stomach and rested them there, imagining that there was a flicker of life beneath his palm. In all honesty, he was surprised that there wasn't. He and Abigail had been sleeping together for about two months now – and without protection – so the fact that she wasn't pregnant made him both relieved and empty inside. Relieved since he didn't want to put that sort of burden on Abigail, but empty because the thought of having a family warmed him. He _wanted_ to be a father.

"It's very rude to stare, you know." Abigail's eyes were closed, but her lips were screwed into a soft pout.

Will smiled, tracing his thumb down the curve of her face. "I'm not staring, I'm basking."

"Yeah? Well bask somewhere else – I'm trying to sleep."

"Abby, it's 10:45…"

She groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. "So what? I'm not a farmer who needs to get up early!"

Will chuckled. Gliding a hand up her midriff, he palmed a breast and circled her sensitive nipple with his thumb. "Don't you want to get up? We could spend some time together…"

Abigail bit her lip. For the past couple weeks now, her breasts had been fuller and hypersensitive. It hadn't taken Will very long to notice this (or take advantage of her plight). He lowered his mouth to her nipple and she whimpered, tugging at his curls as he tongued her rigid protrusion. She could feel his arousal urging strongly against her thigh.

Unbeknownst to Abigail, Will wanted a baby, too – and unbeknownst to Will, Abigail was _already_ going to have a child. She'd found out a week ago when she'd snuck into town and bought two pregnancy tests. She (thankfully) didn't have any morning sickness, but she had the tender breasts, cramps, and now the lack of her period.

Abigail squirmed with excitement. She'd done it – she'd actually gotten her way! Hannibal would be so thrilled once she announced her plans!

Renewed by this thought, Abigail shoved Will onto his back and mounted him, pleased by the stunned, yet lust-filled look in his eyes. "I changed my mind," she purred. "I'd like to get up now."

* * *

Abigail rolled off of Will and landed on her back, gasping for breath as she allowed the afterglow to overcome her. Feeling Will pull her into his arms, she sighed and embraced him as he kissed her neck. "Are you done yet?"

He chuckled against her skin. "You make it sound like my touching you is a bad thing."

"It _is,"_   Abigail insisted. "I never get anything done around here!"

Cradling her against his front, Will pressed his forehead to hers and smiled. "I have a surprise for you."

"Yeah? Well if it involves staying in bed, count me out – I've had enough of that for one day."

"Ouch." Kissing the freckles on her nose, he stroked her arms and said, "Actually, I planned on taking you out of the house for a little bit. You've been cooped up here for over two months, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to let you out for a while."

"Really?" Abigail peered up at him, genuinely surprised. Though he'd allowed her to go shopping once, he'd never let her out again after the incident with Beverly.

Sliding in closer, Abigail beamed and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Well go ahead and take me, then."

"Careful, or I might interpret those words literally."

"In your _dreams."_

Will laughed, fondly kissing her forehead. "C'mon, let's go."

* * *

Before long, it became evident that Will had taken Abigail to a bowling alley.

She laughed, vibrant and amused as he shrank beneath her scrutiny.

"D-don't you like it? I thought it might be fun, so…um…"

"I've never bowled before," she confessed. "My dad thought things like this were frivolous, so I wasn't really allowed…I guess he thought I'd hook up with some boy, or something. I just…I dunno. I didn't mean to laugh. In a way, I guess I just felt like I was getting even somehow." She smiled and pulled Will toward her, fondly nuzzling his cheek. "Thank you."

Flushing with pleasure, Will returned Abigail's embrace just as strongly, if not more, his lips brushing against her shoulder as she sighed. Sometimes it hurt to love someone as much as he loved her.

Abigail withdrew then and touched his cheek. "Think we could have some of that nasty food I always hear so much about? I'm actually pretty starving…"

"But…we just ate an hour ago."

"So what? I'm hungry!" Pushing through the front doors, she beamed and said, "Face it, Will, you're housing an insatiable woman who _needs_ her carbs."

He chuckled. "Well sure, why not? If you get weighed down with food, it'll just make it easier to cream you."

"Hey!"

Will moved to tease Abigail further, but that's when she took his hand in her smaller one, smiling up at him as she leaned against his shoulder. His heart pounded. Even after all this time of intimacy, the simplest touch could still make him shy and helpless.

"Next time we should go to the movies."

Surprised back to reality, he gave a sheepish nod and said, "Uhh…yeah, ok. Is there something in particular you wanted to see?"

Abigail laughed. "I don't want to _see_ anything – in high school, my friends made out with their boyfriends in the theatre, so now it's my turn."

"Well, I-"

"I could go down on you, too."

"Abby!"

She laughed again, embracing his middle as his cheeks burned. "You are _such_   a prude, Will. It's amazing how shy you're being, considering what you did with your mouth last night."

Will hunched over and got in the food line, guiltily ushering her beside him. "Go ahead and order," he muttered. To his surprise, Abigail eagerly told the man behind the counter that she wanted two hot dogs, some nachos, a side of fries, and a milkshake.

_Jesus..._

Choosing not to say anything, Will paid the clerk and watched as Abigail happily took the food in hand. When they were alone at a table, he asked her, "Are you really going to eat all that?"

"Why, do you want some?"

"N-no, it's just…that's a lot of food."

Abigail gave a knowing smile. "Well, what can I say? All the sex we keep having makes me burn lots of calories."

 _"Abby!"_ Now glancing around him with caution, Will lowered his voice and hissed, "People are going to think I'm a dirty old man."

"Um, you _are_ a dirty old man…but that's what I love about you."

"You love…? Uh…" Not wanting to reciprocate in case she was joking, Will tapped his foot and swallowed.

"What's wrong with you, huh? You've been acting all weird around me lately."

Cheeks aflame, he smiled weakly and shrugged. "I dunno, I just really . . . have some issues."

"Hmph, that's for sure." Dipping a fry into some ketchup, Abigail leaned on her elbows and said, "Maybe we could go out on your boat later this evening? I'm in the mood for a long, lazy day."

Will nodded, his smile soft and indulgent. "I'd like that."

Abigail returned his smile, her mood considerably pleasant as she placed a hand on her stomach. Furtively rubbing where she believed the baby was growing, her smile widened as her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Like most girls, being a mother was something she'd daydreamed about growing up. The thought alone was enough to make her burst, but she managed to contain herself for the sake of the plan. She would tell Will once she finally started to show.

For the next several minutes, the two chattered aimlessly. Instead of being bored like she thought she would, Abigail discovered that she was genuinely enjoying their sporadic conversation. Will told her about his past, his hobbies…his hopes and dreams. He no longer seemed like the monster Hannibal had painted him out to be, but a genuine soul with feelings. When he took her hand in his, she actually quivered.

"You cold?"

The concern in his voice made her cringe. "No," she whispered.

"What's wrong?"

Wordlessly getting up from the table, Abigail moved to Will's side and slid into his lap. Framing his bewildered face with her hands, she stroked along his stubble and studied his searching eyes.

"Abby…?" Will returned her gaze curiously, unsure what to think since she seemed so sad in that moment. What was wrong with her?

Before he could even think to ask, he felt her warm breath on his mouth, and then her lips came over his in a soft, surprisingly tender kiss. She'd never behaved like this before.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Unaware of the double meaning, Will ran his fingers through her hair and stroked her cheek. "Are you ok? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, I just…let's go bowling now. I didn't mean to get all weird on you."

"You're not being weird," he assured her. Lips spreading into a guileful smile, he teased, "I'm ready to beat you whenever you are."

Abigail laughed amidst her sadness. "You're on."

* * *

By the time Will and Abigail returned home, it was well into the earliest hours of the evening.

"I've got to work on a few things for a customer, but after that we can go out on the boat for a while," Will promised.

Abigail smiled. "Ok, sure…I'll just be reading until you're done." Kissing his cheek, she tried to ignore the flutter in her heart when he pulled her back for a soft, and proper kiss.

"I'll only be about a half an hour, ok?"

Abigail nodded, sparing Will one last glance before heading into the house. Even though her plan had been to seduce him, she hated to admit that her feelings weren't entirely lust-driven anymore. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but for once in her life she was truly, genuinely happy. _Will_ made her happy. Both thoughtful and attentive, he always made sure that she had everything she needed. It was odd having someone around whose top priority was herself.

With a sigh, Abigail shrugged out of her coat and draped it across the bannister of the staircase.

"You disappoint me, širdelė."

She gasped, glancing upward as her heart leapt into her throat. "P- _Papa?_   What are you doing here?"

"It is the end of the two month period," he coolly reminded her. "You promised results, so I am here to collect."

Despite being happy to see her surrogate, a cold, gnawing sensation ate away at Abigail's insides. "I might have been a little hasty with my words," she weakly said. With her hand on the balustrade, she timidly began to scale the steps. "How did you get in here? Did you find the spare key?"

Hannibal said nothing, his frigid, unforgiving eyes piercing into her as she slowly made her way up to him.

"Papa, please…I know I've disappointed you, but I promise there's a reason for all of this. I've got a new plan now…one that can't possibly fail." Abigail was now at the top of the stairs, her hands clasping his larger ones as she gave a feeble smile. "I'm having Will's child…he'll have no choice but to trust me now!"

Hannibal's grip tightened to the point of pain. "You let him _touch_ you?"

"W-well yes… How else could I have pulled this off?" Confused and cringing from the dull ache, she twisted a bit and begged, "Papa, please… You're _hurting_ me!"

"You let him _touch_ you," Hannibal hissed. His eyes were dark and feral. She'd desecrated his Mischa – he would not stand for such dishonor!

"Abigail," he coolly bit out, "you _know_ how unfond I am of betrayal."

She blinked. "W-what? Papa, I don't understand… Why are you so mad?" Managing to twist free of his grasp, she placed her hands on his arms and said, "I did this for _you._ I thought you'd be happy!"

Hannibal's gaze was cold and empty, his hand coming over her cheek and giving it a soft caress. "I am so sorry, Abigail."

She flinched, confusion lacing her features. "Sorry for what? Why can't you just give me a straight answer?!"

In a flash, he wrapped a hand around her throat and pushed, a weightless, tingling coil of panic spreading through Abigail's limbs as she felt herself falling backwards. Her hip was the first part of her to hit the stairs. Again and again she rolled, the walls rotating in a maddening blur as several sharp, painful points of collision flared out across her body.

When Abigail finally reached the bottom step, she rolled weakly onto her side and curled up into a ball. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a dark, thick bloom of blood pooling between her thighs.

* * *

Will entered the house about an hour later, whistling a cheerful tune as he headed into the foyer. What greeted him at the foot of the stairs gave him immediate room for pause. "...Abigail?"

She didn't answer, her body remaining limp and motionless.

 _"Abby?"_   Panicking, Will dropped down to his knees and flipped her over, desperately patting her face with his hands. "Abigail, honey? Abby, _please!"_

She finally stirred, her features screwing into a pained look as her eyes fluttered open.

"Abby, what happened?"

Squinting up at him, Abigail felt a rush of panic tear through her when it all came flooding back. Frantically glancing down between her legs, she came to the startling realization that Hannibal had not only cleaned her up, but had changed her clothes as well. Was he still there? Was he somewhere in the house?

Moving to sit up, Abigail gave a harsh gasp when Will forced her to lie back down.

"Easy there, sweetheart – you shouldn't make any sudden movements in case you pass out again. Do you remember what happened?"

Thinking of their baby and how it was surely dead, Abigail burst into a fit of broken sobs, her hands grasping Will's shirt as she buried her face against his chest.

Bewildered by the sudden surge of emotion, Will cradled her against him and rested his chin in her hair. "It's alright," he soothed. "If you don't want to talk about what happened, we won't."

Clinging to him like a lifeline, Abigail hiccuped and gave a miserable whimper. "I'm sorry," she repeated over and over again. "I'm _so_ sorry…"

 _"Sorry?_   Sorry for what?"

There came a pause, then a cold voice uttered from behind, "For what needs to be done."

Startled, Will moved to turn toward the sound of the voice, but found a needle thrust right into his pliant skin. He blacked out not long after, Abigail's sharp, frantic keening being the last thing he heard before going under.


	8. Too Little Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal hosts a dinner party. 
> 
> WARNING: Extremely dark/sensitive subject matter that some may find offensive.

Alana Bloom shivered, her arms coming around her middle as she gazed up at the moon overhead. It was oddly cool for a Florida night, and the wind whistled through her soft, stylish hair as she crossed the parking lot to her hotel. She'd just returned from yet another hospital visit with Beverly Katz. The other woman was feeling much better, but her memory was still hazy when it came to certain portions of the day she'd been attacked.

Alana sighed. With any luck, the doctors would get Beverly back on track within the next couple of weeks.

Reaching into her purse, she grasped her room key just as a man approached her from the right.

"Excuse me," he delicately inquired, "might I have a moment of your time? It would seem I have lost my keys somewhere in the lot… Would you mind helping me look?"

Alana peered back at the man in the shadows, her hand still in her purse. Despite not recognizing the little of his face she could see, there was something strangely familiar about his voice. "Well…um…"

"Please," the man earnestly begged. "I wish to retire as much as you, but I cannot do so until I find my keys."

Alana gave a sympathetic smile and nodded. "Alright," she softly agreed, "I'll see what I can do. Why don't you show me to your car? It's possible that you dropped them when you got out."

The man profusely thanked her, then led her through the dimly lit lot toward an old, relatively beat-up vehicle. It looked oddly familiar…had Will driven something similar while at the Bureau?

Annoyed with herself for thinking of him, Alana only came back to reality when the cold, slight pressure of a gun barrel pressed against the small of her back.

"Do not scream," the man commanded. His breath came out white-hot against her hair, making her shiver with both fear and disgust. He ducked to the side of her, then opened the passenger door and urged, "Get in."

She blinked back at him in terror. "Who _are_ you?"

The man gestured more sharply with his gun, then flippantly said, "An old friend. But in spite of my views on hospitality and politeness, I will not hesitate to use physical force against you, if necessary. I will only ask you once more to get into the vehicle."

Alana swallowed. Finally ducking into the passenger seat, it was then that she realized they were not alone. A soft, hysterical flurry of weeping came in fitful spurts from the backseat. When she finally turned around to look, she gasped at the sight of Will Graham slouched against the window, a petite young woman clinging to him and sobbing into his shoulder. Her pale, freckled face was tear-stained, but there was no mistaking those startling eyes of blue.

"Abigail?" Alana breathlessly asked. "Oh, God…Abby, is that really you?"

Abigail responded by sobbing harder, her arms coming more strongly around Will's elbow as she curled up her legs.

"Do not interrogate my ward." Hannibal was beside her then, closing the car door before starting up the engine. The alleged missing keys dangled from the ignition.

"Dr. Lecter," Alana hissed. It wasn't a question so much as a statement, the word rolling off her tongue like a bitter poison.

Hannibal smiled. "It is quite good to see you again, Alana. When I found out you were in town, I simply could not resist inviting you to our little dinner party. We used to be very close, if you can recall."

She felt sick. "What did you do to Will? Hannibal, please… _please_ let him go. Haven't you put him through enough already?"

"Will is fine," Hannibal snapped. "He has been administered a very strong sedative, but it will wear off in due time."

"And Abigail…did you-?"

"Enough questions! I truly wish to keep you lucid, Alana, but I will not hesitate to inject you if you cannot hold your tongue."

Alana fell silent, her eyes burning as her expression turned sour. As a woman who always spoke her mind, she was finding it very difficult to keep quiet. Fortunately for her, Hannibal was more than willing to pick up the slack.

"I have missed our scholarly talks. Do you still find Jung and Horney to be masters of psychology?"

"Don't act like everything's normal," Alana hissed. "You can degrade and heckle me all you want, but do _not_ insult my intelligence."

Hannibal smiled. "I would never dream of it. Your fiery temper is one of the many reasons I felt you would make an excellent therapist. You are quite good at relating to your patients, though I fear that sometimes you get a little too close."

Alana's eyes fluttered shut. "Hannibal, what is the point of all this?"

"As I have already stated, I wish to have a dinner party with my closest friends. You will help me cook, won't you, Doctor?"

Alana blanched. "Please…please, _don't."_

"Fear not, my dear – the meat is quite fresh. It is waiting for us in a freezer in a lovely couple's home."

"Oh, God," Alana sobbed. "Oh God, oh God, oh God…" Unrolling her window, she allowed the cool air to soothe her skin as she fought against her nausea. "You killed that couple, didn't you?"

"Why put a damper on such a lovely evening? Really, Alana, you must learn to be more appreciative. It is quite rare that I choose to be so hospitable." Here Hannibal reached over and touched her hand, to which she responded by fiercely jerking away.

"Were you 'hospitable' when you framed Will?" she seethed. "Were you _'hospitable'_ when you lopped off Abigail's ear?!"

Hannibal was impassive. "I can see you are upset…"

"Of course I'm upset! You ruined their lives!"

"On the contrary…I helped them to live again. Under my gracious wing, both Will and Abigail have experienced a sense of rebirth."

Alana felt sick. "You're delusional," she spat. "You are truly, genuinely _crazy!"_ Placing a hand over her eyes, her shoulders shook as she fought back the sobs that longed to escape her throat. Again she felt Hannibal's hand come over hers, but this time she didn't have the heart to shake him off.

"Madness is only present in those who're content with the world around them," he lowly said. "I am most certainly not pleased with the filth that runs rampant upon this earth… I am here to make it a little more bearable."

Alana sniffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Who lives and who dies isn't your decision to make."

"Perhaps not," Hannibal agreed, "but every now and then, I believe that God could use a helping hand. I very much doubt He would begrudge me the pleasure – God enjoys killing too, you know."

Alana bit her lip. This man was horribly misguided, but she didn't know what she could say or do to change his mind. And what's more, what did he have planned for the evening? To actually expect a normal dinner party was lunacy.

After a while, she weakly bargained, "If I help you cook…will you spare Will and Abigail's lives?"

Hannibal nodded. "But of course I will – they are of no use to me dead."

"Then…I give you my word." Breathing a bit easier, Alana only felt her chest tighten again when they pulled up a long, winding driveway. It seemed like there wasn't another source of life for miles… Of _course_ there wouldn't be. Hannibal was no fool. If anything, he'd probably been planning this for weeks in advance.

After he stopped the car, Hannibal pointed his gun back in her peripheral and urged, "I would like for you to get out now, but please do not make any sudden movements."

Alana exhaled and nodded. Opening her car door, she slowly got out and raised her hands above her head. As she waited, Hannibal moved to her side of the car and helped Abigail get Will to stand. He was still very disoriented, but by this point he was at least capable of sluggish movement.

Alana came forward as if to help, but Hannibal clucked his tongue and aimed his firearm between her startled blue eyes. "Stay where you are, if you please."

Stiffly complying, Alana drew back and watched the scene with misty eyes. There had been a time when she'd loved both Hannibal and Will – _achingly_ loved them – and it pained her to see them both stuck in such a dark place (one by choice and the other through force). During Will's trial, Hannibal had been an anchor for her – a lover – so it sickened her to realize that she'd failed to see the signs… That she'd failed _Will._ Not a moment went by where she didn't regret bringing Hannibal on to help. Why hadn't anyone seen that the therapy sessions were detrimental? Why hadn't _she_ seen it?

Anxiously standing by, Alana bit her lip when Hannibal indicated that she walk ahead of them. Going up to the wrap-around porch, she turned and waited, watching on as Will groaned and got dragged through the yard by both Hannibal and Abigail. Though Alana was naturally distracted, she couldn't help but notice the concerned, intimate way Abigail leaned into Will and supported his weight. And even though it probably wasn't intentional, Will was clearly favoring her support over Hannibal's; not that Alana could blame him for that.

As she contemplated all of this, she gave a jolt when Hannibal tossed her a set of keys. "Open the door," he commanded. "Use the gold one with the ridges."

Catching the keys with fumbling fingers, Alana sent him a sharp look before doing as he asked. After the lock gave way, she pushed the door open and wrinkled her nose at the stale, pungent odor of disuse. Whomever had lived there hadn't been around for at least a week.

"Head into the kitchen…it's just down the hall," Hannibal urged.

Obeying with contempt flashing in her eyes, Alana set her jaw and clip-clopped back toward the small, country style kitchen. She could hear movement and low murmuring in the dining room, punctuated every so often by Abigail's sharp, feverish pleas. From the sound of things, Hannibal was immovable. There came a few more choice words, then the host of the hour finally greeted his guest in the kitchen.

"I do apologize for the wait," he said. "If you wouldn't mind, I would very much like you to dice the vegetables." With a pause, he pointed at the counter and added, "I've also taken the liberty of pouring you a glass of beer… I trust you still enjoy imbibing?"

Alana's lip curled. It amazed her how, even under such loathsome circumstances, Hannibal could still come off as the perfect gentleman. Winding her hand around the drink, she brought it to her lips and took a generous sip, yet the act came off as being spiteful.

Hannibal smiled at her. Now going over to the refrigerator, he rummaged around a bit before retrieving some carrots, celery, onions, and several other vegetables that he placed onto the countertop. When he removed a knife from the butcher block, Alana visibly shrank back.

"Do not worry, my dear – I plan on using these utensils in the proper manner," Hannibal assured her.

Unconvinced, Alana reluctantly came forward and accepted the knife. When her fingers curled around the handle, she found that it felt cold and heavy in her palm. Locking eyes with the man before her, she shivered as he pierced her into place with his frigid stare. His wordless command was for her to not take action. Alana should've known he'd be able to see her yearnings to stab him.

Finally, Hannibal told her, "I have the main course stored away in the refrigerator, so if you could please chop those vegetables, we can begin."

Tight-lipped and sullen, Alana sent him one last scathing look before going over to the counter. With the knife poised in her hand, she began to chop the carrots with timid, trembling strokes.

She could hear Hannibal fussing around behind her, but a part of her wouldn't allow herself to take a look. It was only when he appeared at her side that she dared to glance at what he so carefully molded between his hands. Fully catching sight of what he was preparing, Alana's mouth fell open in horror. "Hannibal, is that…?"

"Do not worry, my dear – it is for Abigail, not us."

Feeling sick to her stomach, Alana turned her back on the sight and quivered. "You're a monster."

"Am I?" Moving in with a slight smile, Hannibal placed a hand against the small of her back and gently stroked the area. He could feel her muscles tensing beneath his palm. Smoothly, he urged her, "Finish chopping the vegetables. Without those, this delightful dish will be tragically bland."

Ignoring the stinging tears in her eyes, Alana exhaled and miserably nodded. "Y-yes, I…alright."

"Thank you."

Hannibal moved toward the other side of the kitchen and Alana bit her lip, now glancing over her shoulder to assess his exact location. Still chopping to assure him of her submission, she frowned and watched as he bent over his preparations, his shoulders flexing beneath his blazer as he worked. If he remained distracted, perhaps she could…?

Far too afraid to finish her train of thought, Alana tapped the vegetables off her knife, then turned back toward Hannibal with her arm trembling. He didn't stir. Now holding the blade out in front of her and at eye level, she rushed forward and prepared her hasty attack. Just as she brought the knife down, she gave a cry when Hannibal seized her by the arm, bending her wrist back as he smiled coldly. The blade dropped between them with a soft, metallic clatter.

"You disappoint me, Alana," he purred.

Panting and struggling for breath, she winced as he viciously yanked her forward, his lips now hovering over her own as he smoothed a hand down her back.

"You know, we never did quite conclude our affair…"

"It was 'concluded' to me," Alana spat, cringing as he tightened his hold on her wrist. "Hannibal, you're _hurting_ me – let go!"

He immediately acquiesced, his thumb tracing the slope of her cheek as he stepped back. "Finish the preparations," he barked, his voice no longer warm or congenial. "It is impolite to keep our guests of honor waiting."

With a quavering breath, Alana ignored her sinking heart and headed back to the counter. The thought of what Abigail would soon face made her sick.

 

* * *

 

"Will? _Will?_ Please listen to me…you need to hold your head up, alright?" Trying her best to get him to look at her, Abigail swallowed her tears and tilted his head back. Will responded by weakly slumping to the left, his eyes blinking dully back at her as his mouth fell agape. The ropes holding him in place helped with his balance, but ultimately prevented them from making a quick escape. Abigail was unsure of why Hannibal had left her unbound, but she assumed it was to test her loyalty. He wanted to know he could trust her again.

With a shaky breath, Abigail brushed the bangs out of Will's face and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Will…I never meant for this to happen. I-I mean, maybe I did at first, but I didn't think I'd want…th-that is to say…" Trailing off, she bit her lip and winced when she heard Hannibal in the doorway, his eyes bright and smug as he entered with several dishes lining his arms. Alana trailed miserably behind, unable to meet with anyone's gaze as she clenched her jaw and set the table.

"Such a help," Hannibal remarked, smirking back at her before setting the dishes onto the table. When he placed a particularly tiny dish in front of Abigail, he watched with pleasure as her brow creased.

"What _is_ this?" she asked. "It looks…i-it looks like…"

"Fœtus au jus," Hannibal pleasantly finished. "I made it especially for you, so I expect you to eat every bite."

Abigail had lived with Hannibal long enough to pick up on the French language. With the color draining from her face, she shrieked and furiously shoved the plate away from her, now hyperventilating as the room began to spin at a maddening pace. "My baby," she sobbed. "You…you _killed_ my baby!" She leapt to her feet then, her eyes wild and her slight frame shaking.

"Abigail, sit down!" he snapped. "It would be in your best interest to do as I say."

"I won't eat him," she wailed. "I _won't_ eat my baby!"

Hannibal was immovable. "In some cultures you are not merely eating the dead, Abigail – you are _honoring_ them, just like your father believed. Now please sit down, place your napkin in your lap, and tell us how it tastes."

By now Abigail was sobbing uncontrollably, Will slumping over as Alana took all of this in with horror in her eyes. The baby was _Abigail's?_ Hannibal had alluded to punishing her, but at the time Alana hadn't understood. Whose child was it? Gaze drifting back to Will, she observed the lackluster sheen to his eyes as he tried to sit upright. She didn't want to believe it, but the earlier closeness she'd seen between them suddenly seemed to intensify. Could Will _really_ have impregnated his own ward?

In spite of the astonishment within her breast, Alana was far too shocked to be angry or upset by her deduction. At the moment, all she could truly feel was pity for the weeping girl in front of her. All her life, Alana had wanted a baby – she'd even seen Abigail as a potential surrogate – so to see a beautiful gift ripped away in such a cruel, and heartless manner nauseated her.

"Abigail!"

Alana winced, terrified when she realized Hannibal was pointing his gun across the table.

"If you refuse to stop insulting my efforts, I shall have no choice but to harm the source of your turmoil."

Realizing that the gun was now pointed in Will's direction, Abigail began to incoherently shriek and sob as her face grew bright red. She was so overwhelmed that her sense of logic literally shut down.

Infuriated by her lack of obedience, Hannibal clicked back the hammer and took aim.

"NO!"

Throwing all of her weight against his arm, Alana caused the gun to misfire, the bullet lodging into the adjacent wall as Abigail sobbed with relief.

"I should have known you would interfere," Hannibal hissed. "Fortunately for me, I went ahead and drugged your beer before the preparations. I have no time for your sentimental, feminine yearnings for love and maternal bliss."

Alana quivered, now allowing him to tie her to her chair with little resistance. Wincing when he tightened the rope around her wrists, she sucked a breath and bowed her head. "What are you hoping to accomplish, Hannibal?" she softly asked. "Making Abigail eat what she loves isn't going to change anything…it won't fill the hole in your heart."

Hannibal snorted. "As intuitive as you often are, Alana, I fear that you have quite missed the mark on this assumption. I am merely righting a wrong."

"And is it so 'wrong' for Abigail to have a shred of happiness?"

"She was perfectly happy with _me,"_ he snapped. Now withdrawing a large, scintillating meat cleaver from beneath his blazer, he moved over to Will with a cold little smile.

By this point, Will was finally capable of proper sight and balance, so he dizzily lifted his head when he sensed the other man's presence. "What did…what did you _do?"_

"Nothing that wasn't deserved," Hannibal brusquely said. Catching sight of the way Abigail clung to Will's arm, the rage returned to his breast full force. Though he'd once considered Will Graham an equal, no one – _no one_ – was allowed to touch Mischa without his permission.

Eyes chilled, he tapped the blade against his palm and asked, "Do you know what some cultures do to thieves, Will?"

The bindings around his shoulders were tight, but Will managed to place his palms flat against the table. Amidst his delirium, he took note of the distance between his right hand and his knife, his eyes now sliding up to Hannibal's as he said, "No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

 _"Show_ you, actually."

Confused, Will moved to speak, but that's when Hannibal brought the cleaver down with all his strength. Will jerked back in shock, but not before the blade severed his fingers down to the second joint. He could hear Abigail shrieking at his side, but somehow he was unable to process what had just happened. Out of the corner of his eye, he realized that Alana was now slumped over, her chin tucked against her chest and her hair obscuring her face. Was she dead? Drugged?

Finally feeling a burning pain in his right hand, Will placed his palm flat against his lap and ignored the warm, damp sensation of blood seeping into his slacks.

"Will!" Abigail screamed, now trying to lift his arm above his head. "Will, we need to staunch the blood flow…" Turning her wide eyes to Hannibal, she frantically begged, "Papa, _please…_ I need your help!"

He ignored her. Now returning to his seat, Hannibal exhaled almost as if he'd been put out, his head shaking as he cut into his main dish. "If you do not wish to suffer the same fate, I would suggest you finally sample what I worked so hard to prepare."

Abigail sniffled, her hands slick and red as she struggled to keep Will's arm upright. With gritted teeth, she viciously bit out, "You really _are_ my father…he was a selfish bastard, too!"

"I am _nothing_ like your father." Eyes maroon and electric, Hannibal spat, "I did you a favor, Abigail. Do you honestly believe that Will would have raised that child with you? _Married_ you?" Here he smiled, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. "I was unaware that I had a dreamer in my midst."

"Wait… _what?"_ Will blinked through his technicolor haze and swallowed, suddenly feeling as if his tongue were sticking to the roof of his mouth. "What child? W-what…?"

Hannibal sent Abigail a pleased little smile. "Ah, so Will did not know he was a father-to-be? How utterly charming of you, Abigail – perhaps I taught you the proper forms of manipulation, after all."

Bursting into tears, Abigail continued to pinch Will's bleeding digits as she screeched, "Shut up! Just shut the hell up, you _monster!"_

"Abby…?" Will looked up at her then, his eyes wide and filled with disbelief. "Are you…? I-I mean, are _we…?"_

"No," she softly whispered, voice strained. "I was, but not anymore." Still unable to look at their baby, all prepped and defiled on her plate, she sensed Hannibal beginning to stand out of the corner of her eye.

"Sit down, Abigail – I shall tend to Will."

"No!" she hissed, now protectively stepping in between them. "You've already proven you don't give a damn about him…about _either_ of us!"

"Abigail," Hannibal warned, his expression dangerously placid, "get out of my way."

"I said _no!"_ she barked. "All my life I've been pushed around by one man after another, but not anymore! I'm tired of people telling me how to live, when to act, and who to love!" Eyes flashing dangerously, Abigail backed up toward the fireplace and snapped, "Tonight _I'm_ choosing my own path, and it no longer includes you!"

Groping blindly behind her, she reached for a fire poker before she finally found purchase. Now swinging it aloft with all her strength, she felt an exultant flutter when the metal point connected with Hannibal's skull. He went down like a sack of flour, his body now still and unresponsive. A faint trickle of blood formed from where he'd been struck.

Moving desperately over to Will, Abigail began to hyperventilate with nerves as she struggled with his bindings. "We need to get you into the kitchen," she urged. "It's going to hurt like a bitch, but we have to cauterize your wounds on the burner."

Nodding dimly, Will allowed Abigail to assist him onto his feet, then he unsteadily staggered after her into the kitchen as she rushed to the stove. Turning on the front burner, she blinked through her tears and motioned him forward. "C'mere… I promise this'll work."

Will took her outstretched hand and shuddered, shaking as his world continued to spin madly around him like a rickety Tilt-A-Whirl. Permitting her to lead him over to the stove, he gaped down at the glowing red spiral and swallowed. It glared up at him like a sizzling metal eye.

"Will?" He felt Abigail gently tugging on his arm. "Will, I'm going to do it now, ok?"

He nodded, knowing that he didn't have much of a choice.

Biting her lip, Abigail guided his wrist forward, then quickly crushed his severed fingers against the burner.

Gnashing his teeth together, Will suppressed a sharp howl and bit down on his tongue, his fist tensing as he stamped his foot to relieve the agony. The pain was incredible. Each time he tried to jerk back, Abigail would push down on his wrist, forcing his exposed tissue to sizzle and cauterize against the burner.

At long last, Abigail eased Will away from the stove and moved her hands to his face, encouraging him to meet with her imploring gaze. "Will," she called, _"Will?_ Are you ok? Can you hear me?"

"I'm just peachy," he slurred, his brow beading with sweat. "Let's not…let's never do that again, ok?"

Abigail laughed amidst her fear, now pressing her forehead to his. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I never meant for any of this to happen…you know that, right?"

"Where's Alana?"

Startled by the question, Abigail chewed her lip and looked off to the side. "We don't have time to worry about her…I doubt Hannibal will be out for long, so we need to go."

"But Alana…"

"I'll call the police the minute we leave," she promised. "Just come with me, alright? We can't risk staying here any longer." As she tugged on his arm, it was then that she remembered Hannibal had the car keys.

Registering the pallor on her face, Will uneasily asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just…wait here a minute."

When he realized Abigail was heading back into the dining room, he dizzily grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Where are you going?"

"Hannibal has the keys," she earnestly explained. "Don't worry, I'll only be a second."

"Abby, no…"

"Will, the longer you keep me here, the more likely Hannibal will wake up – now let go!"

Feeling Abigail slip out of his feeble grasp, Will staggered after her as she rushed into the dining room. Hannibal was still slumped against the rug where she'd left him, his arms spread listlessly above his head.

Bending over him, Abigail began patting his pockets as Will lingered in the doorway.

"Is he alive?"

She nodded, blinking back tears. "Yeah, he's fine…I can see him breathing."

There came a pause, then Will asked her, "Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…I-I mean, Dr. Lecter said you were pregnant, and…um…"

"It's fine." Abigail's tone was short and snappish, her eyes devoid of light as she fished around inside Hannibal's left pocket. When she finally curled her fingers around the keys, she gave a pleased exhalation and withdrew. "Ok, I've got them…let's get out of here before he wakes up."

Will appeared like he wanted to say something else, but he held his tongue and followed Abigail toward the door.

The two were silent as they rushed out to the car. This silence continued well into the beginnings of their drive, but before long, Will was no longer able to keep quiet.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Abigail jerked at the sudden question, her hands tightening around the steering wheel. "I…I wanted to surprise you," she meekly lied. "I only found out a couple weeks ago myself, so it's not like I've known for long."

Will nodded, his gaze hard as he stared straight ahead at the road. "When did you lose him?"

Abigail cringed, noting how he seemed to believe that their baby had been a boy, as well. Fighting back tears, she tried to keep the emotion from her voice as she whispered, "This evening…before you found me by the stairs."

Again Will paused, his good hand passing over his mouth as he closed his eyes. "Dr. Lecter was wrong, you know… If…if you'd had the baby, I never would've abandoned you."

"Will…"

"You don't have to say anything," he assured her. "I just thought you should know."

"Will," Abigail said again, though this time she was choking on her tears. The car slid to a grinding halt and she sobbed, clapping her hands over her eyes as she wallowed in what she'd done. She'd chosen the wrong path… She never should've listened to Hannibal!

Wordlessly, Will encircled his arms around Abigail's shoulders and pulled her toward him, tucking her head beneath his chin as she bawled against his neck. Gently rocking her from side to side, Will ignored the lump in his throat and kissed her hair. "It's ok," he soothed, even though he didn't feel it. "We'll be alright."

Shaking amidst her sobs, Abigail buried her face against Will's chest and trembled. She could feel his fingers lightly stroking through her hair, his lips grazing her temple as he shushed her. He was so warm and understanding…there was no way in hell that she would _ever_ deserve him. He needed to know the truth.

Wiping at her eyes, Abigail slowly withdrew and blinked up at him. "Will, I…I need to tell you something…"

"No, you need to drive," he softly argued. "We still need to get help for Alana, so whatever it is, it can wait." Cupping her face, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and stroked her cheeks. "Remember what I said, alright? We'll get through this."

With a sniff, Abigail nodded and gripped at his arms, hot tears staining her skin as she hesitantly moved away from him. As she shifted the car back into gear, Will's hand came over hers and she paused, looking over at him with round, luminous moist eyes. He loved her – she could see that now. And instead of filling her with warmth and joy, it tore her up inside more violently than a filet knife, because she knew she loved him, too. In the end, their love wasn't enough. The wicked always got what they deserved, and what she deserved wasn't Will Graham.


	9. The Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth begins to unfurl and relationships are tested.

Alana awoke with a groan, her brow knitting as she felt a damp cloth trace along her skin. "Will…? _Abigail?"_

"Do not speak," the familiar voice urged. "The sedative I gave you is still in your system."

"Hannibal," she breathed, eyelids fluttering, "where…where are we?"

"A friend's house," he said, folding the washcloth over a basin. "She will never betray our location, so you are in perfectly good hands."

"Am I?"

Ignoring her meaningful once-over, Hannibal pulled up a chair and had a seat. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a bus," she muttered, wincing. "You said we're at a friend's?"

"Yes."

"I see…and do they know who you really are?"

"Who truly knows anyone?" he evasively asked.

"You _know_ what I mean."

Hannibal paused. "Then no, she does not truly know who I am. She knows me as Dr. Lloyd Wyman, so if she comes up to check on your status, I would appreciate it if you would address me as such."

"You're hurt…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're bleeding," Alana clarified, now sitting up as she dizzily took in his appearance. "What happened at the house?"

"Nothing of importance," he said. Tracing the bloody bandage on his forehead, he crossed his legs and leaned back, taking her in with an appreciation that clearly made her uncomfortable. "What do you remember?"

"You served Abigail her baby," Alana said, a sickly pallor overtaking her skin. "And Will…you did something to him, but I blacked out before it happened. Where are they now? Are they alright?"

"I assume so…when I awoke, we were the only ones on the premises. I had to call my friend to come pick us up…she believes we were mugged," Hannibal explained. His expression grew dark, stormy, and just a little bit wistful.

"What were you hoping to accomplish?" Alana asked him. "You wanted Abigail to depend on you…why?"

"I am her surrogate – it is only natural for her to be dependent upon me."

"No," Alana argued, studying him closely, "it's something else. I never did quite understand your interest in her. Does she remind you of someone from your past?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps is what a man says when he doesn't want to face the truth."

Hannibal smiled thinly. "Though I always welcome your psychoanalysis, I must remind you that your perception is currently clouded by sedation."

"Or perhaps I've achieved the ultimate clarity," Alana challenged. "Who was she, Hannibal? A daughter? Or maybe a sister?"

His upper lip twitched. "If you do not mind, I think I shall go downstairs to see if my friend is in need of help with dinner preparations. Will you please excuse me?"

Frustrated, Alana watched him head to the door with an old-fashioned key in hand. "Hannibal," she called, "Hannibal you can't lock me in here… _Hannibal!"_

The only response she received was the soft, final click of the door closing behind him.

 

* * *

 

Eyes burning and heart heavy, Will continued to hold Abigail flush against his front, his cheek resting in her hair as she breathed evenly. At long last, she was finally asleep. After renting a motel room for the night, he'd tried to encourage her to get some rest, but she'd been inconsolable. He hated to see her like this.

Using his good hand to stroke her back, Will trembled and closed his eyes. He'd been a father. For a grand total of two months, he'd actually had a _child._ And no matter what he did to console himself, he always came back to the idea that if he'd only _known_ about Abigail's pregnancy, he could've prevented her from losing the baby. The notion was ridiculous and illogical, but he also knew that grief clouded one's judgment.

Pressing his lips to Abigail's forehead, Will stroked her cheek as she sighed and snuggled up against his chest. With his arms wrapped more strongly around her waist, he kissed her shoulder and slid his lips toward her neck. "You ok?" Nuzzling her, Will soon realized that Abigail was still asleep.

Before he could even think to move or speak, Abigail's cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. At first Will didn't think anything of it, but then it vibrated a second and a third time. Maybe the police were trying to contact her?

Reaching over Abigail's prostrate form, Will swiped the phone and realized she had several text messages from someone named "Papa." Hobbs was dead, so that could only mean…

Mouth dry, Will felt his lungs constrict as he anxiously forced himself to read. In eloquent, yet succinct phrasing, the first text said:

_I can never put you above myself. It is too dangerous. I hope that in time, you can forgive me as I have forgiven you._

_-HL_

Trembling, Will tasted bile as he scrolled down a couple messages.

_Meet me at the Velmont Café, located three miles west of Will's beach house._

_-HL_

Lurching up to his feet, Will swallowed back his nausea and forced himself to keep reading. The next message that caught his attention made his heart drop.

_Agent Katz has been taken care of._

_-HL_

Desperate to disprove what he'd just read, Will scrolled over to the 'sent' inbox and shakily opened the coinciding text. It said:

_Beverly Katz knows too much. You need to get rid of her._

_-AH_

Eyes screwing closed, Will blinked slowly as if to cast the image out, but when he focused back on the damning text, the words glared back at him in dark, crisp lettering. Abigail Hobbs was as much of a monster as Hannibal Lecter, and the proof was in the very phone in his hand.

"Will?"

Trying to swallow past the lump in his throat, he slowly turned around and beheld his sleepy-eyed lover. Abigail rubbed her swollen eyes and sniffled, now rolling up into a sitting position. She squinted up at him. "What time is it?"

"You used me," he viciously bit out. Chin quivering, Will swallowed and threw the phone in her lap. "You've been _lying_ this whole time."

With the color instantly draining from her face, Abigail leapt up from the bed with her arms outstretched. "Will," she meekly begged, "Will, _please…"_

"You tried to have Beverly _killed."_ Eyes burning from suppressing tears, Will shuddered and curled his hands into fists. "What _else_ have you lied about?"

"Will, I tried to tell you everything!" Abigail wailed. "I wanted to confess last night, but you wouldn't let me!"

"Oh, so now you're going to blame _me_ for this?" He gave a dry, disbelieving laugh. Shaking his head, he miserably asked, "Was anything between us these past few months even real? Or did you lie about all of that, too?"

Abigail quivered. "No! I-I mean, up to a certain point, yes, but I swear to you, Will, everything I feel now is real!" She reached out for him, but he abruptly pulled back. Pained, she feebly confessed, "I love you, Will. I never wanted to admit it since I knew this would never work, but I do…I _do_ love you."

Will jerked back as if he'd been slapped. "Get out."

"B-but Will…"

"Get _out!"_

With a sob, Abigail rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck, now burying her face into his throat as she sorrowfully dangled there. It hurt how he wouldn't even touch her.

"Will, _please,"_ she pitifully entreated. "You have to understand what happened. I just-"

"What's to understand?" he coolly cut in. "You lied to me, and now you're just sorry you got caught." Keeping his tragic eyes focused on the wall, he tensed his jaw and choked out, "I'm not going to remove you by force, Abigail, so please… _please_ just go."

"I can't," Abigail moaned, her voice strangled by tears. "I made a mistake… I thought you were a monster, but now I know the truth! Please just-"

"If you're worried about money, I'll give you enough for a cab," he softly cut in. "I don't want to call the police, but if I have to, I will." Trying to ignore her soft sobs, he attempted to pry her hands from his shirt as she clung to him.

Finally allowing Will to remove her from his person, Abigail hiccupped and, for just a brief instant, felt a flicker of hope when his hands held hers. But just as soon as the moment had come, it was over. Will pushed past her and moved to the door, opening it and stepping aside with purpose.

"I won't let people use me anymore," he whispered, his voice raw. "When you go back to Dr. Lecter, you can tell him that, too."

Abigail ducked her head in shame. "Will, I'm not the same person I was two months ago… I don't want to go back to that life."

"You will," he snidely predicted. "You may think you've changed, but evil never truly goes away."

Abigail's eyes were glassy. "You…you think I'm evil?"

"Only an evil person would try to kill my friends, worm their way into my heart, and then emotionally manipulate me with a planned miscarriage, so yes…I _do_ think you're evil."

"That miscarriage was _not_ planned," Abigail fiercely bit out. "I wanted that baby…I wanted _you!"_

Will clenched his teeth. "Yeah? Well maybe you should've thought of that before we started this whole song and dance, because guess what? _I_ don't want _you._ In fact, we're done here...just grab your things and leave."

"You don't mean-"

"I _do_ mean it, goddammit, and I won't let you manipulate me into thinking otherwise!"

Bursting into tears, Abigail squared her jaw and furiously stormed past him to obey his request. But the minute she crossed the threshold she thought better of it, cringing when she heard the motel door slam soundly behind her.

"Will!" she cried, whirling around and beginning to beat on the pine surface, "Will, _please!"_ She could hear the TV being turned on in order to drown out her cries.

Quivering, she slowly lowered her arms and blinked back her tears. The one good thing in her life was gone…she now had no choice but to be on her own.

 

* * *

 

Beverly Katz was finally back home in Virginia, nursing her injured pride more than anything since she'd been so careless. With the return of her memories, she now wondered if the botched robbery theories were even true.

Though Beverly was enjoying her marathon of 80's sitcoms, she had to admit that she'd be enjoying it a lot _more_ if she made herself some popcorn. Delighted by the idea, she leapt up from the couch and went striding toward her small kitchen. Bad fortune be damned, because at the moment she could only focus on her insatiable craving for butter.

Opening up her pantry, she grabbed a pouch of popcorn and a bowl, then proceeded to make the easy snack. As she was milling around in the cramped space, a soft knock came at her door.

"Just a minute!"

Grabbing the bowl from the microwave, she set it on the coffee table before making her way to the door. When she opened it, she balked and took a subconscious step back. "Will…"

"Hi," he whispered, voice hoarse and his eyes raw. "I just…I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Will, you just made a two and a half hour flight…if you wanted to see how I was doing, all you had to do was call."

He nodded, his smile brittle and strained. "I know," he rasped, "it's just…you were right. About everything. I didn't know who else to turn to, so I just…I just came."

Beverly's eyes grew tragic. "For once I didn't want to be right, Will. I wanted you to be happy."

He nodded again, rolling his lips inward as he anxiously shifted from side to side. "So…can I come in?"

Wordlessly taking the overnight bag from his hand, Beverly smiled and stepped back to allow him entry.

"Thank you."

"You never have to thank me for anything," she assured him. After setting his stuff off to the side, she urged, "Have a seat…there's some popcorn in that bowl, if you'd like some."

Will shook his head. "Thanks, but I don't think I could eat…everything has my stomach tied up in knots." Miserably sinking down into the offered chair, he placed his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes. "She tried to get you killed, you know."

"What?"

"Abigail… She's the reason why you were in the hospital."

Beverly grimaced, then nodded as she sat across from him. "Yeah, I kind of figured…she definitely wasn't happy to see me."

"It's all my fault," he choked. "You could've _died_ because of me, Beverly…because I was too stupid to open my eyes and see her for who she really was."

"You wanted to believe she'd changed…you can't be faulted for that."

"Don't patronize me," Will spat. "We both know I was blinded by guilt, so just call it what it is. Maybe I could've forgiven her for helping Dr. Lecter, but she wanted you dead. She tried to get you _killed,_ and I can't ever forgive an offense like that. Not ever."

"Did she forgive you for killing her father?"

Will's eyes snapped up sharply, narrowing at Beverly in disbelief. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I don't want you having toxic feelings just because of me. I'm a big girl, Will. I can take care of myself."

He faltered, his chin trembling as he folded his hands between his knees. "I can't trust her anymore…"

"Nor should you. The kid was raised by a psychopath for two whole years." Eyes softening, Beverly said, "I just don't want you living in regret, ok? You made a mistake, but I don't fault you for that. I mean, maybe if I'd gone with my gut, I could've prevented all of this myself."

Will smiled weakly. "'If ifs and buts were candy and nuts,' right?"

Beverly softly mirrored his smile. "Right. I guess I'm just saying I don't want you to lie to yourself anymore. You need to be honest."

"I haven't been this honest with myself in a long time," he whispered. "Abigail needs to be cut from my life…I never want to see her again."

"Then don't," Beverly agreed. "Stay here in Virginia…there are plenty of people here who care about you."

He smiled sadly. "I just might take you up on that…for a little while, at least."

"Then it sounds like I'll need to make a liquor run." With a grin, Beverly tapped Will's leg and rose from her seat. "Cheer up, ok? You'll be alright now."

He nodded. "Yeah…of course." As he watched her head into her bedroom to get her keys, Will sighed and placed his head in his hands. Beverly was wrong – his heart felt hopelessly empty and torn. There was no way up from here.

 

* * *

 

By the time Hannibal returned to Alana's room, he found his guest sitting in the window seat by her bed, her soft, porcelain face angled toward the glass as she hugged her knees.

Hannibal cleared his throat. "I figured you might be hungry," he spoke, now coming toward her with a tray. "Are you feeling any better?"

Without looking away from the window, Alana coldly said, "I'm being held prisoner in some stranger's house against my will – how would _you_ feel?"

Hannibal set the tray down on her bedside table. "You must eat, Alana."

"Why? So I can feed your inner cannibalistic perversions?"

"My friend is not a cannibal – I met her at a museum in Paris. I can assure you that everything on this plate is palatable to the average individual."

Sparing the tray a tempted glance, Alana chewed her lip and slowly uncurled her legs. As he handed her a glass of water, she wordlessly gave him permission to do the same with the food.

"It pleases me to see you eat."

Ignoring him, Alana tried to retain a semblance of propriety as she tore into a dinner roll. She hadn't realized how truly starving she was before now.

Hannibal waited a beat, then lowly confessed, "You were right earlier…when you assumed Abigail reminded me of someone from my past."

Startled, Alana paused mid-chew, slowly lowering the roll as she gave him her undivided attention.

"It was my sister," he continued. "I know it was wrong of me to idealize Abigail, but when you lose someone you love – and in such a horrific, atrocious manner – I suppose it is only natural to pretend our loved ones had received a different fate."

Alana swallowed. "I…I don't know what to say…"

"I am not looking for pity," Hannibal assured her. "I just thought you had the right to know, seeing how you were able to see through my predicament. A good colleague should always be rewarded."

"But your sister…is she…?"

"Dead? Yes." A fire seemed to burn behind his eyes, his lips lifting into a bittersweet smile. "And yet, I am thankful that Mischa is not here to suffer the trials and tribulations that run rampant upon this earth. I take comfort in knowing she is safe from pain."

Unsure of what else to say, Alana softly ventured, "Thank you for sharing with me, Hannibal. Even though I'm not your patient, nor you mine, you can count on my staying silent about this."

Hannibal nodded stiffly. "That is indeed a comfort, seeing how you will be leaving soon. I've booked a flight for you back to Maryland."

"Then…that's it? You're just going to let me go?"

"I am," he softly agreed. "Though my persona was false, my admiration for you was not. I shall always remain an admirer of yours, Doctor."

Biting her lip, Alana slowly rose and set her tray onto the window seat. She knew there was no place in him for affection. "When's my flight?"

"In about an hour," Hannibal said. "If you leave now, you can make it to the airport."

"I…alright. Thank you."

As she turned to grab her purse off the floor, he lowly added, "I hope you know that after you leave, I will not remain at this residence."

Alana smiled weakly. "I wouldn't have expected anything less from an intelligent psychopath." Deep-down she'd been hoping to alert the authorities, but it seemed that he knew her too well.

As he walked her downstairs Alana paused, her bright eyes turning to his as she softly said, "I hope you find what you're looking for, Hannibal. Even the wicked deserve happiness."

He smiled thinly. "As do I…thank you, Alana."

After a soft handshake, the friends-turned-lovers-turned-enemies parted ways, and this time for good.

 

* * *

 

Abigail chewed her lip. Glancing down at the GPS on her phone for the umpteenth time, she stood with uncertainty in the driveway of a secluded, quaint rancher style house. After deciding that this was, indeed the place, she paid the cab driver and made her way up to the front porch. As she looked down at the stoop, she furrowed her brows when she spotted what appeared to be dots of blood. Oh, God…had Hannibal killed someone else?

Abigail swallowed. Squaring her shoulders, she raised her hand and rapped on the wooden surface. There came a pause, then a newly-transformed redhead opened the door with a cold little smile.

When they locked eyes, Abigail bowed her head and cringed. "You were right," she tearfully whispered. "After Will found out what I really am, he…he didn't want me anymore."

Wordlessly, Hannibal held out his arms and she went into them, her sobs catching in his throat as he stroked her hair.

"Shh," he soothed. "I knew you would eventually return to me, my Mischa…no one was ever able to stand in between us."

Eyes popping open in surprise, Abigail trembled and gripped at Hannibal's shoulders. As she glanced past him into the living room, she saw the body of the resident who lived there.


	10. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** Sexual content and fluff (seriously, it'll burn you – IT'LL BURN YOU BAD).
> 
> There are also a few foreign phrases in this chapter, so here are the translations:
> 
> Lithuanian:  
>  _mano brolis:_ my brother
> 
> French:  
>  _Allô:_ Hello  
>  _ma chérie:_ My dear/darling  
>  _Pardonnez-moi:_ Pardon me

Will had never been in love before. He'd had amorous, romantic flings in the past, absolutely, but it wasn't until Abigail had pulled him from the rubble that he'd fully understood what such an emotion could be. She'd been an anchor…a lighthouse leading him to safe passage, so when she'd led him off course, he couldn't help but feel betrayed. Instead of the safety of the harbor, he'd been dashed against the rocks during high tide, left to lie battered and bruised without another thought.

Had Abigail ever truly cared for him, he wondered? Or had she smiled, batted her lashes, and lured him in with the siren song she'd sang for all her father's victims? Will should've known better than to trust a woman born in deceit, but he hadn't been able to help himself. After his downfall in life, he'd been desperate for a connection…desperate to bond with someone who understood him. And at the time, he'd genuinely believed that person was Abigail.

Will snorted. He was such a fool. It had now been two years since he'd told Abigail to leave, and even now he still scoured the news, hoping to find a hidden clue to her whereabouts. And more importantly, was she still with Hannibal? Or had he killed her for her betrayal?

Tasting bile at the thought, Will closed his eyes and shook his head, not even hearing Beverly as she entered their shared apartment.

"Hey, Champ!"

He lurched to attention, nearly pricking himself on the lure he'd been (absent-mindedly) creating.

Dropping a couple shopping bags onto the floor, Beverly peeled off her coat and said, "Some friends and I are going out for some drinks in a bit…wanna come with?"

Will pulled away from his bench with a weak smile. "Do I _ever_ want to 'come with'?"

Beverly snorted. "Hmph…suit yourself, Mr. Anti-Social. If you keep it up, people might start to think you're a decoration instead of a human being. It's ok to go out every now and then, you know."

"I do," Will defensively said. "I went fishing just a couple days ago."

"Yeah? Well I hate to break it to you, but fishing doesn't count as socializing…unless you talk to the fish?"

Will smiled at that, but there was a sadness around his eyes. Even though he hadn't lived in this apartment with Abigail, he didn't want to give up the secluded lifestyle they'd shared – it helped him feel close to her. And despite being a pragmatic man, every now and then he expected to feel Abigail's arms around his neck, her lips on his face, her hand shyly slipping into his; it unnerved him how his subconscious refused to let her go. It had been two years – two whole _years –_ so why couldn't he move on like he knew she had?

"Hellooo? Did you hear anything I just said?"

Clearing his throat, Will smiled weakly and rubbed his face. "Sorry, I just…I was distracted."

"Yeah? Well cut that out," Beverly teased. Smiling despite Will's preoccupation, she softly added, "I said you're a good guy, and that good people are eventually rewarded. Don't worry, Will. I know this isn't the life you dreamed of, but it'll get better someday."

Will ducked his head and sighed. "You make it sound like I'm ungrateful…I'm not, you know."

"Of course I know, but I'm also not dumb enough to think this is what you want in life. I work with the FBI – it's my _job_ to figure out people and what makes them tick."

Will smirked. "Ok, so what makes me tick?"

"I think we both know the answer to that."

Smile fading, his eyes cut down to the floor and he shifted, finally mumbling a hushed, "Have fun with your friends."

Beverly frowned. She knew a dismissal when she heard one, but decided to let it go. If Will wasn't ready to face the inevitable, there was no point in forcing him to come to grips with reality.

"Alright, well…I'm going to go get ready now."

"Ok."

Sparing Will one last glance, Beverly shook her head and moved toward her bedroom.

* * *

"What always interests you so much in those American newspapers?"

Abigail paused, her jaw setting as Hannibal entered the sitting room. "You _know_ what."

"Indeed, I do not. The headlines are always so pedestrian." Feigning ignorance, Hannibal took his tea and sat in the high-backed chair across from her, crossing his legs. _"_ _Il Gazzettino_ is far more suitable, given our current status. This country has been good to us."

Abigail said nothing. Instead, she continued to scour Freddie Lounds' blog on her tablet, hoping to somehow find news of Will Graham and his whereabouts. She still thought of him often. Whether it be a song on the radio, a painfully melancholy symphony, or even the sight of a mangy mutt on the street, she could easily be moved to tears. Hannibal thought her sentimental, but Abigail knew the truth – she was slowly dying from not being with the man she loved.

"Have you given any more thought to Reynard Fremont?"

Abigail froze, her lips pursing with displeasure. Reynard was a Parisian Hannibal had selected as a "respectable suitor," but she wasn't having any of their 17th century bullshit. She wanted to date whomever she damn well pleased, and she knew she could never do so with her heart otherwise detained. Surely Hannibal knew this, as well? Or maybe that was why he was trying to marry her off in the first place?"

"Mischa?"

She cringed, hating how he no longer called her by her true name.

When their eyes met, Hannibal set his cup down onto its saucer with a delicate _'clink.'_ "Have you or have you not considered his offer?"

"I have," Abigail coolly said.

"And?"

"And I've decided I still need time to think…his proposal took me off-guard."

Hannibal appeared displeased. "Be that as it may, you will not find a gentleman more worthy than he. I should hope that at the very least, you will have an answer by the time we host our gala this evening."

Abigail lurched up from her chair. "But why do I have to make a decision by this evening? I'm not just picking out a dress or choosing a new wall color, _mano brolis_ …we're talking about a decision that'll affect the rest of my life!"

Hannibal's eyes were dark. "Mischa, I am your brother, and I have always known what is best for you. Though I once considered Will Graham an equal, he is not secure enough to be worthy of your affections."

"B-but I never said-"

"You didn't have to," he coolly cut in. "We have lived together long enough for me to sense your foolhardy, sentimental yearnings for a love now lost."

"But-"

"He does not want you." Hannibal watched the color drain from Abigail's face. As she slowly sank back down into her chair, he provoked, "When a man desires something enough, he will go to the ends of the earth to find it. And seeing how Will has not come to fetch you, nor has he even bothered to see if you are alive, it would seem that your affections are not reciprocated." He gave her a pointed look. "It is foolish to mourn for a man who does not mourn you in return."

Abigail swallowed sharply, her eyes closing. "You know I don't love Reynard…"

"You will in time," Hannibal promised. "He will be there to take care of you if I suddenly find myself unable. It is important to me that you are looked after."

"I don't _need_ a man to look after me – I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Perhaps," Hannibal agreed, "but it would put my mind at ease."

"Oh, well just so long as _you_ feel better."

"Do not be rude, Mischa. Sarcasm is an ugly shade on you." He rose then and Abigail faltered, her irate expression fading. "Meet me in the drawing room in one hour. By then, I will expect to see your selected dress for the evening, as well as what you plan on doing with your hair. We cannot have you looking second rate when Mr. Fremont will be in attendance."

"Yes, _brolis."_ As Hannibal walked past her, Abigail bit her lip and swallowed back her tears. Hannibal was right – Will _hadn't_ looked for her, but a small part of her couldn't help but hope that he'd only neglected to do so out of fear. It was why she, herself hadn't run off in search of him, and ultimately why she never could.

* * *

A soft hush overcame Fell Manor as Hannibal Lecter, proud and self-assured garnered everyone's immediate attention. As he began to address his guests, Abigail frowned and glanced down into her wine glass. She _hated_ parties. Nevertheless, she'd agreed to play the dutiful role of his loving sister, Mischa Fell, her face now painted up and her hair hanging in loose, curled ringlets around her shoulders.

As she contemplated her bad fortune, a soft touch came at her elbow.

 _"Allô,"_ the newcomer greeted. "You shall have to thank your brother for inviting me."

Abigail's upper lip curled, but she nodded, pretending to be just as enthused as Reynard. The man was handsome in his own right, but ultimately lacked what had made her fall for Will.

Seeing that Abigail wasn't going to engage in conversation (willingly), Reynard cleared his throat and tried again, "This is truly a splendid affair, _ma chérie._ I have never seen so many fine wines or entrées! And your brother prepares everything himself, is that correct?"

Abigail took a generous sip of wine and grimaced. "Yes…he does."

"And that includes the alcohol, does it not?"

"Yes." Disinterestedly gazing down at the floor, Abigail thought of how she'd much rather be out on Will's boat. With his head in her lap, she'd read to him as they drifted out amongst the briny waves, neither focusing on anything but the sea or each other.

"Would you care to dance?"

"…What?"

"Later on," Reynard clarified, appearing a bit perplexed. "When the orchestra swells, would you care to do me the honors?"

"I, uh…maybe?"

He huffed. "I'm sorry, did you wish to be alone?"

Again Abigail thought of Will, more than likely curled up by the fire with his dogs, and she shook her head, wincing. "No," she whispered. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

_"Pardonnez-moi?"_

Handing Reynard her wine glass, she smoothly asked him, "Would you please get me another drink? I need to speak with my brother really quick."

"Oh, but _mademoiselle_ …this glass is nearly full. Are you sure that-?"

But Abigail was already heading off toward the gardens of the manor, her eyes bright as she excitedly thought of what she was about to do. As she reached the back gate she could hear Hannibal's voice in her head, lowly scolding her for her transgression. _"No more jumping walls, Abigail."_

This was just one more hurdle that she needed to leap.

* * *

"What are you so happy about?"

"I have a customer," Will said, smiling as he gestured toward the inbox on his laptop. "I was honestly starting to get worried, 'cause I've had a pretty dry spell as of late. Seems like nobody needs a mechanic anymore."

"Especially one who specializes in boat motors," Beverly teased. "When are they coming by? I'll be sure to pop out so you can deal with them alone."

"Uhh…around three tomorrow afternoon, I think? She wasn't overly specific."

"It's a _she?_ Are you sure she isn't just trying to get you to fiddle with her plumbing?"

Will made a face. "Don't be crass…I don't even know the woman. Her name's Molly Something-or-Another."

"Hmm. I went to school with a Chris Something-or-Another…any relation?"

Will smiled at that, shutting his laptop with a sigh. "This is the first job I've had in a few weeks, so with any luck she'll give me a few recommendations."

"Here's a recommendation for ya: find a _real_ job." Playfully ruffling his hair, Beverly ignored his agitated glance and headed into the kitchen. "How 'bout a beer?"

"No thanks."

"Hmph, suit yourself." Popping the top off her bottle, she took a sip, then leaned back against the marble countertop, her toes curling against the cool linoleum as she smiled. "Want some advice?"

"Not really…"

"Well too bad, 'cause I'm gonna give it to you anyway." Waiting for him to look at her, she continued, "A couple of my friends think you're cute, so it wouldn't hurt to be a little flirty every now and then. Abigail is _gone,_ Will – you need to start thinking about your future. And I may love you and all, but I don't wanna be roomies forever…you're messy, and your dogs stink."

Will huffed. "Contrary to popular belief, not everyone's meant to get married, pop out a bunch of bratty kids, and live a happy life. I'm perfectly content with the way things are now."

Beverly shook her head. "Good thing you're not still with the FBI, 'cause you're a terrible liar."

"I'm _not_ lying."

"Right. And I'm not hopelessly addicted to bon bons." Rolling her eyes, Beverly set her beer onto the counter and sighed. "In the end you're only hurting yourself, so it's no skin off my back if you're lying."

Will moved to retaliate, but Beverly was already grabbing her coat. "See you later, Mr. Denial." As she left the room and silence filled the air, Will looked down at his lap and grimaced. He hated when Beverly was right.

* * *

The next day, Beverly stayed true to her word and left Will to his own devices. His appointment wasn't for at least two hours, but due to his nerves, he couldn't stay still during the wait. He fretted. He cleaned. He paced, only to end up in the kitchen washing dishes. Truth be told, Will didn't know why he was so anxious – it seemed that not having had a job put extra pressure on this deal.

Submerging a plate into the murky water, Will clumsily cleaned with the half-severed fingers of his right hand. He hated the sight of that damn injury. It seemed that even his body brought memories of Abigail, her soft, rounded face taking shape in his mind as he closed his eyes.

_"Will?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_Abigail smiled amidst her tears, the two of them huddled together on the motel bed as she took his raw, injured hand in hers. Now lifting it beside her missing ear, she nuzzled him and whispered, "We match."_

_Will stared back at her, silent and glassy-eyed as she proceeded to kiss each of his burned, crusted joints. She was right…together they made quite the pair, what with their deformities and inner imperfections. He smiled sadly at the thought._

_Sliding his thumb across her lips, Will watched Abigail as she kissed that too, her eyes meeting his as he brushed the soft, errant hair from her face._

_Snuggling in closer, Abigail lifted her hands and cradled his cheeks, her forehead touching his as she asked, "Will you always be in my life?"_

_He smiled and wiped a traveling tear from her cheek. "Always."_

Nearly breaking a glass, Will clenched his jaw and began to scrub the dishes more vigorously. He was tired…so tired of clinging to ghosts and broken promises. Abigail had never wanted to be with him. In manipulating him, she'd been hoping to lure him into her trap . . . and had ultimately succeeded.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Will's dogs began to bark and howl excitedly, but he showed no real hurry in ceasing his task. "The door's open!" he called.

Finishing up a particularly scuzzy pan, Will wiped his slacks and grabbed a glass, now drying it off with a dish towel as he went toward the front of the apartment. At the very least, he figured he could offer this woman a drink. "Be there in a sec!" he said.

By now he could hear the soft, dulcet tones of her cooing over his dogs, his heart constricting painfully at the sound of her voice. For a second there it almost seemed like… _No._ It couldn't be.

Coming into the doorway, Will swallowed and beheld the sight of a tall, lightly-curved blonde bent over his dogs. Their tails wagged and she laughed, accepting each of their kisses with girlish pleasure.

"Can…can I help you?" he asked.

The woman straightened and turned, her face melding into the one person he could spot in a crowd of one million. The longer he stared, the more real she became, each intimate detail lining up without falsehood or distortion.

"Hello, Will."

The glass he'd been holding plummeted to the floor, exploding across the wooden surface in an arc of sparkling shards. "Abigail," he choked, his chest burning from lack of breath. She was real. She was actually _alive._ The space around her burned a shadow of negative space, causing her presence to scream demandingly at him like a torch in the night.

"Hi," she said again, her eyes sparkling with tears.

Will sucked in a quavering breath, his hands clenching as he began to shake. It was her…she'd come back to him.

Seeming to expect an outburst, Abigail stepped forward with her palms lifted. "Look," she began, "I know I'll never deserve you or be worthy of-"

But he cut her off, briskly closing the gap between them with three quick, even strides. Knotting his fingers through her hair, Will urgently crashed his mouth into hers and tugged, a desperate sob catching in his throat as he backed her up toward the wall. Abigail whimpered when they collided with the hard surface, her hands framing his cheeks as she angled her face frantically into his. Amidst their desperation, the kiss grew rough and feverish, their tongues glossing as Will pressed Abigail more strongly into the wall. Both jolted when he urged a hand between her thighs.

"Wait," she begged, "you need to know that-"

"No," he breathed. "I don't."

Allowing him to claim her lips again, Abigail grasped his shoulders and slid her hands into his hair, her head falling back against the wall as his mouth burned a warm, searing trail toward her throat. Biting her lip when his tongue swiped across her scar, she whimpered and impatiently rolled her hips into his searching hand. Will seemed to get the hint.

Dropping down to his knees, he hastily began to bunch up her dress and push it up around her waist, his lips eagerly meeting with her midriff as he began to peel away at her panties. Abigail gasped. Shakily helping him remove the bothersome garment, she gripped his curls and jerked when his tongue thrust between her thighs. The sensation sent sparks of pleasure throughout her limbs, her mouth falling agape as a high, delicate whine escaped her lips. "Will," she begged, "Will, please…"

He nuzzled into her more deeply, his tongue immersing into her wetness as she hooked a leg over his shoulder. Using the wall to support her weight, Abigail tilted her hips and pulled him in closer, her nails scratching up his neck and scalp as he devoured her. The distraction of his tongue was maddening...

Unable to take it any longer, Abigail grew frantic and shoved Will onto his back. He looked up at her, stunned, only to instantly understand when she hiked up her dress and straddled him. She needed him the way he needed her. Grabbing her hips as she unfastened his pants with slim, jittery fingers, Will closed his eyes and groaned when her hand wrapped around him. Lips parting and breath coming out in harsh, labored gasps, he arched his back when he suddenly found himself coerced deep inside her wet, welcoming heat.

With her hands gripping his shoulders, Abigail leaned all her weight forward and rolled her hips, a soft, gusting sigh catching in her throat as she felt him writhe beneath her. Will gasped and tried to pull down on her waist. Teeth biting into the soft pad of her lip, Abigail's movements soon began to accelerate in aggression, her body giving several harsh, violent jerks as she rose and fell against him. Still briskly undulating her hips, Abigail cried out when she suddenly found herself rolled over beneath Will's strong, sturdy frame. With her legs twined around his waist, she tossed her head back and yelped when he bit down on her shoulder, his hands gripping her hips as he rocked violently inside her heat. Abigail quivered.

Stealing her breath in a harsh, bruising kiss, Will punctuated each of her soft mewling sounds with several short, brisk jabs of his cock. Her fingers were now in his hair, tugging on his curls as she whimpered into his open mouth. His tongue slid past her lips and tangled with hers. Feeling her spasm around his length, Will groaned low in his throat and drove into her with a renewed force, her thighs squeezing his hips as he felt himself coming undone. With several harsh, frenzied thrusts, he arched his back and came hard, grunting softly as he collapsed atop Abigail's heaving bosom. Both wilted in one another's arms soon after.

The two laid like that for quite some time, panting and struggling for breath as they remained entangled in each other's embrace. All that could be heard was the soft _tick tick tick_ of the clock on the wall, Abigail's fingers combing through Will's hair as he buried his face in her neck. She became surprised when her skin suddenly grew damp.

"Will…?"

"You're alive," he choked. "Please…tell me I'm not hallucinating."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Abigail closed her eyes and heaved a shaking breath. "You're not," she promised him, "I'm right here." She felt him clutch her more tightly.

"Maybe this isn't real," Will whispered back, his voice hushed and warming her skin. "Maybe _you're_ not real… I've dreamed you before."

Lifting him by the chin, Abigail palmed his damp cheek and wiped the curve of his face with her thumb. She hated to admit it, but it comforted her to know he'd thought of her.

Catching her by the wrist, Will swallowed and regarded her carefully. "Why did you come back?"

"What do you mean?"

"You'll be going back to Hannibal after this, won't you? Wasn't this just a brief detour?"

Trying to ignore the pain in his eyes, Abigail knew it was time to put his mind at ease. Unzipping a pocket in her dress, she withdrew a dog-eared, folded up piece of paper and held it out to him. "Read this," she urged. "I brought it for you."

Bemused, Will took the note and opened it with shaking fingers. After a moment, he said, "I…I can't read this. It's all in Italian."

"Not the bottom part…" She pointed. "I had it translated."

Skimming down to where she instructed, Will felt his heart flutter as he said, "This is the copy of an arrest warrant."

Abigail could barely hide her smile. "I know…I contacted the authorities after I left Palermo."

"Then…Dr. Lecter's in police custody?"

She nodded, gazing imploringly into his eyes. "I wanted us to have the chance for a normal life. If he remained free, I knew we'd always have to run from him."

Will winced and started to withdraw. Panicking, Abigail rolled up into a sitting position and clutched his elbow. "Look," she earnestly began, "I know you don't believe me, and you have every right to feel that way, considering all the shit I've put you through, but things are different now. I had the police translate that warrant so you could see I'm serious about starting over…that I'm serious about _you."_ She gripped his hand, trembling as he looked down at their entwined fingers. "Please, Will, you have to believe me. I can't go back to that old life…or at least, not without you."

Swallowing past the dryness in his throat, Will finally regarded her through stinging eyes. "I got an email yesterday from a client named Molly Foster…was that you?"

Abigail blinked at him, startled. In all the time she'd known Will, she should've anticipated that he'd try and hide his feelings by changing the subject. But since he also hadn't shouted at her or told her to go to hell, she felt a bloom of hope within her breast. Biting her lip, Abigail shrugged and asked, "Do you like it? When the time's right, I want to get my name legally changed – there's just too much baggage with my current one."

Will flashed her a soft, genuine smile. "I think I do, actually…and I like the blonde hair. It's very 'exotic.'"

Abigail scoffed at his joke, rolling her eyes as her lips lifted into a smile. "I'm beginning to think _everything's_ 'exotic' to residents of Wolf Trap."

Will smirked at her barb, but after a while his smile faded and his gaze grew serious again. "What happened between us can't just be erased, you know."

Abigail faltered, nodding. "I…I know, but can't the same be said for all the good stuff we've shared, too?"

Will sighed. "Of course it can, but you broke my trust, Abigail – hell, you broke _me_ – so you can't just expect us to pick up where we left off."

"Then…are you saying…?"

"I'm saying if you actually want to be in my life, you're going to have to prove I can trust you again. And given how deeply you've wrecked said trust, it's going to take a long time. Are you really willing to put that kind of effort into a relationship when you're so young, and…well…?" Trailing off, Will sighed and rested his forehead on his knee. His voice cracked as he whispered, "You hurt me bad, Abigail, but it hurts a hell of a lot more to be without you."

His words were mumbled against his pant leg, so Abigail had almost missed the hushed, hopeful words of devotion.

"You know I am," she finally said. "If I wasn't willing to try, why would I have come here in the first place? Why would I have risked my life to escape Hannibal?"

Will swallowed. "I…I don't know…"

"Yes," Abigail said. "You _do_ know."

Will looked up at her then, his gaze softening as he nodded. "Yeah…I guess you're right." Shyly catching her hand in his, he turned her toward him and tucked her head beneath his chin. "I care about you, Abigail."

"…Just care?"

"No…I more than care about you."

She smiled against his chest. "Good, 'cause I more than care about you, too." Wrapping her arms more securely around his waist, she closed her eyes and drifted off to the sound of his strong, steady heartbeat.

* * *

About a year and a half later, Will and Abigail found themselves back in Florida. As it turned out, Abigail had gotten her hands on quite a bit of money from Hannibal, so she'd been able to buy a nice beach house in Sugarloaf. Even though Will hadn't wanted to force himself into her life, she'd insisted that he and his dogs come stay with her. She couldn't bear the thought of living alone.

"It'd be my first time truly being on my own," she'd whispered, her eyes soft and weepy.

That had settled it. Will could never say no to her.

The months prior had brought a lot of tests for Abigail, but had ultimately proven she'd been serious about her promise. Will no longer worried about her betraying him.

So now, sitting outdoors in the evening sun, both Will and Abigail huddled together on the porch swing Will had fashioned from some leftover wood. Abigail leaned against his side, smiling as she hugged her swollen belly with one arm and held his damaged hand between her fingers. "Will?"

"Hmm?"

"I think we should call him Willy."

Arching a brow, Will glanced down at Abigail's warm, rosy-cheeked face and fought off a jeering smile. "Willy isn't very inventive, all things considered…"

She huffed. "It's Willy or nothing at all!"

"Well, 'Nothing at All' _does_ have kind of a nice ring to it. The only problem is it might be hard finding his name on one of those souvenir key chains."

Abigail rolled her eyes, trying her best not to smile. "You're such a jerk, Will – I hope he inherits _my_ wit over yours."

"Hmph, well at least you admit that I _have_ wit."

Brushing her thumb over his severed fingers, Abigail caressed the knotted scar tissue and gave a distant smile. "Is this how you imagined everything would be? Is this what you wanted?"

"Not really," Will said, tucking her head beneath his chin. "I thought I'd be engaged to some good-looking skinny woman by this point. In fact, I – _ow!"_ Wincing when he rubbed where she'd knuckled his ribs, he laughed and observed her sour expression. "Was it something I said?"

"No. I have voices in my head that tell me to hurt assholes."

Laughing again, Will kissed Abigail's forehead while her brow remained petulant and creased. "Do you hate me?"

"Yes."

"Ok…I think I can live with that."

Expression softening with amusement, Abigail laid her head on his shoulder and smiled. Even though Will was currently being a pain, it warmed her to see this freer side of him. Ever since Hannibal had been transferred to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Will had lost his former doom and gloom outlook on life and had taken a more laid-back, appealing perspective. It made Abigail wish that she'd turned Hannibal in a lot sooner.

Feeling Will's palm press against the swell of her stomach, Abigail grasped his wandering hand and interlocked their fingers.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

She snorted, smiling despite her disdain. "You're just lucky I tolerate you."

Will chuckled and pressed his cheek against her hair. "Just so you know, I tolerate you, too."

Abigail smiled, curling her knees as she snuggled more closely into his side. With the dogs sleeping at their feet, the two gazed out into the horizon, neither worrying about the future and what horrors it could bring. In that moment it was just the two of them, the slowly setting sun, and the love that had saved them both from damnation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Point Mann, Ilda, and Eliza for the "Molly Foster is Abigail Hobbs" idea (I thought it was so cool how three different people came up with the same plot bunny!). Even though it was a really long time ago that we discussed that theory/idea, I remembered it and thought it was cute and decided to go for it. I obviously don't think that idea ever WILL happen (considering how Willy's actually 11 when Will meets Molly and blah blah blah), but hey, this is fanfiction, so why the heck not? ;) After the depressing end of my first Will/Abigail fic, "Folie a Deux," I KNEW I needed a happy ending for this one. I'm also a little sad it's over, because I literally started this fic after 1x12 aired (to deal with the pain, CUZ ABBY, BBY!) and it got me through the hiatus. I can't believe it took me the entire hiatus to finish (and then some), but hey, at least it kept me occupied!
> 
> In other news, I've already started a new Will/Abigail fic (PLOT BUNNIES ARE EVERYWHERE), so if you're interested, it's called **"She Came in Dreams."** :) I haven't gotten too far yet since I want to see what Will's living situations are going to be like, but I definitely know what I want to do. As the title suggests, this fic will involve Abigail appearing to Will in dreams/hallucinations, in which she'll guide him to clues on how to prove his innocence. BUT if that's all the story was, that'd be boring as hell, so I promise there'll be a twist. ;)
> 
> Wow...I just realized that I've never defined the term "anthesis," so here it is: _the flowering period of a plant, from the opening of the flower bud_ (aka when a flower blooms). I figured that that definition was perfect since it explained the maturation/development/growth of both Will and Abigail throughout the story. I actually learned the term during a science class I substitute taught, so my students didn't know why I was so full of feels. xD


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